At first, and for a rather long time, the cells of the brain of his dead body continued to send out what science does not know yet and like a ghost he was wandering in our apartment keeping all his cherished routines. This has since faded, maybe because I and my faith have faded. I still hope though that there is some unknown reality where our souls will one day meet again and our unique individualities melt. The memories of our past happiness and mutual understanding are too great to have been in vain. Beyond the necessary changes (panta rhei) and behind them only permanence makes sense and is of final value.

Atriplex is growing on the grave for a reason. He is buried in my little garden where I had sown this French spinach species of the Saltbush, an interesting family of plants including Quinoa and Amaranth, those trendy cereals in health buff circles lately, but also beet and spinach and goosefoot, all of similar reputation, offering edible root vegetables, leaf vegetables and grains. I eat the leaves and grains of this wild plant, raw of course, to sustain the health I need against that warBush.