Legacy. Like all things, it starts with a question. One in particular. What would be left of me? Would I be memorialised? Would I be a plaque on a wall somewhere? A martyr to some cause? Or simply a pile of dusty bones in a wooden box underground? Was I supposed to be leaving a legacy, expected to be something more than I am? What if I'm - we are - simple an idea, The last vestiges of a broken dream? Will I someday be forgotten completely? The finest collection I own, Is the regrets I've kept for myself.
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