Steve Mendelson

We often fear the unknown, the strange, and the unfamiliar, and there is nothing more unknown, strange, and unfamiliar than death. I have always feared death, and yet I am curious, drawn to the mystery of it. Flowers may sprout from my grave, but I will never see them. I’ll never hear my own eulogy, never know what people thought of me. Does it matter what they thought of me? If they thought I was strange for collecting animal bones, for my cabinet of curiosities, for picking worms out of puddles and laying their twitching pink bodies back in the earth? We all will lie in the earth among the worms eventually, so I might as well do them a favor in the meantime.

–Worm Girl, RAC member