Personal Reflection
A Haunting Surplus That Will Never Be Forgotten
On Premature Passing
I recently had the privilege to visit a city in Slovenia where two Egyptian sarcophagi, presumably from the 4th or 5th dynasty, are being held.
They were sent to Slovenia in the 19th century by the Austrian general consul in Egypt — knight Lavrin.
This dude sent it to his hometown just so he could put his dead son inside one and his parents into the other.
What a guy!
This whole thing with the sarcophagi, however, didn’t spark anything inside me.
I made a step aside from the Egyptian tombs and turned around to gaze upon an (ordinary) grave, or rather its stone border at the bottom of my feet.
What my gaze fixated on was a handmade rose from clay. It was flat and long just enough to be placed on someone’s palm.
The rose’s leaves were painted in now-faded pink, but the bottom stayed gray from the material from which it was made of.
I assumed somebody has dropped this little treasure, so I picked it up for further inspection.
Rather quickly as I lifted it, I noticed an inscription on the back.
