Passengers

We are but temporary passengers. We are born into the world, naked, and as such we will be going. No possessions will be taken, no money nor any material futilities. There is but one thing that will last and be transmitted, the memory of you in the hearts of those you touched. Continuing on the road of their life, as they carry you with them, always and everywhere, how then would you like to be remembered? 

How may you ink these vulnerable hearts, giving them comfort in the tougher times? What message will you leave written on their palms?

M.t.