to be buried in Paris.

Several months back I came to a definitive decision about how I want my body disposed of at death and I decided, I want my body to be buried. No organ donations, no eyes, heart, skin tissue, brain cells, blood, hair. I want everything whole. This is my donation.
I don’t know if I can do the barely there, worm fest-the “green burial.” But I want my casket laid in the ground. For too long I was in this default mode for my own personal end times….and was going, like many others now, to do the cremation thing.                           Today I read a couple of stories about ashes. In F.T.  a review of a book on the Rolling Stones related a story suggesting  Keith Richards snorted some of his dad’s ashes with some cocaine. Then in a guide book on Mexico City it said Diego Rivera ate? Ingested.  Frida’s ashes.
Would I like to be buried in Paris? Yes, no, maybe. I wish I was that romantic who can say, “I’m going to live the rest of my life in Paris, I’m going to be buried there.” …..

 

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