“But I don’t know of a single thing that stops being. Trees seem to die, but they come back. Even after they fall down, new shoots spring up. Creeks dry up but return with the rain. When Tura passed away, I burned her body, but there were still ashes that drifted on the winds. And the stars are always there, following the same course they have always travelled. It’s like they take a trip each year and then return. The moon is the same way, it just takes shorter, more frequent, trips.”