I came to be perplexed, my curiosity stoked. How did Death color the things we, the oblivious living, take so for granted? 

"What do the dead dream of?" I asked. 

"We do not." 

"Well, what do you wish for?" 

"These days," he said, "the living wish for both life and death. They have left the dead nothing." 

I thought for a moment. "Then, what do the dead weep for?" 

"The living."