There are diseases that come from electrons biting and stinging one’s eyelids. They nourish themselves on your blood and attach themselves to your skin. In death, you shall live among the subatomic particles, where logic and mathematics have no bearing, where events have no cause, where all is made of wild impulse and nothing is made of calm reason. This is your grave, my sweet, sleep here and dream you are the shadow of a giant. You shall be the heat of a flame or a plume of smoke here now and gone now: you shall not be real or solid or have any weight or mass or truth: you shall have no properties, but live like dust motes drifting in the sunlight, only there because there is a certain perspective.