We grow older and make monuments to defy time.
The things done to hide and change our appearance and the labels attached to a fleeting identity.
When the ones we love are gone and we leave unfamiliar metal likenesses for a possible passers-by searching for the resting place to their genetic origins, what is really there?
We don't want to be seen how we are. Even in death we want to be better. Striving for something to make a mark on the world before we leave.
