On this day with loud gongs and drums and great excitement, he finally died.
He lay in the jar, which was buried in the ground.
The soil is cool, but it smells of freedom.
The smell of gunpowder, earth, chicken blood, food, all kinds of smells mixed together. He was particularly happy smelling it.
He was lying down, flat underneath.
He finally understood that death cannot be told to others and must be done by oneself.
Otherwise, what is suicide?
Conception: