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What happens after it (beauty) perishes...one clings on to memory that can never fully re-awaken what was and thereby also becomes incapable of fully realising what is, now. Death is inevitable and therein lies the truth; the memory of life can never fully resurrect what was. The past becomes merely an illusion, and in understanding that, there is wisdom. What good is the smoke after the fire is out? One needs to open one's windows so that one doesnt choke in its fumes.
And when finally all fire, all smoke is out, what remains?
What do you remember after death?