Flowers at a grave. They’re soon just going to wilt, die, be buried under snow, and turn to more of the soil covering the coffin full of memories. Still, they were left for temporary yet meaningless beauty and respect. Everything living is going to die. The people that are buried beneath the graves have died; the leaves have died; the grass is dying; we’re all going to die. But, in the mean-time, most people have things to live for until they end up six-feet under with the rest of humanity. Despite how much is wrong with the world they keep choosing to live for something every day. I wonder what that’s like...