Memento Mori
There’s a children’s amusement ride outside the café. It’s presence is unquestioned. It is ever present. The paint is flaking to reveal layers of previous representations. The coin slot is slightly rusted and still runs on twenty cent pieces. Grandparents forage for coins when babysitting when cajoled by the youngster. Each coin deposited is for the ferryman; the clink of coins is the price of the soul. For a minute the child is gently rocked back and forth as the mechanism hums an earthen lullaby. The child does not know it but the grandparent does. This is memento mori. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. A return to finishing a cup of coffee and the last of a meal of chips and nuggets.
A Fullness in Brevity - Adam Byatt 