Having spent so many evenings by the fireplace, and expecting to spend so many more while staring at the fire, I feel there is little else. Nothing but fire. Fire and life go so well together, it strikes me after so many years. All that remains is a pile of ash. An all-too-obvious metaphor for my magnum opus, and yet an almost soothing one. Alas, ash and death are not matched as well as fire and life. If only death would be so kind to leave any old trace in its wake.