No prayers at my funeral, only the ancient psalms attached to this letter. There will be prayers, but may come the kings and priests to mourn for me. I want a marble tomb, without images or inscriptions, to my grave in the center. I want songs when winter arrives. I smell of incense, scented with musk. I 13 candles around me, always burning. I want the most beautiful maidens of the temple watching my coffin, take turns in my pantheon always been a virgin. And cover must be opened from inside, for when you are hungry.
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