Red and orange leaves falling from the trees, the sunrise shining through the thin clouds and the gothic architecture standing majestically: a picturesque scene gleams through the uncertainty of death. A scene that serves as a reminder that nothing is permanent. The trees might grow leaves again, but for the leaves this is the end of their storybook. A society, like a tree, might lose its members; nevertheless, it will keep resiliently treading on toward the future. Unlike leaves, humans exist both as a physical being as well as an idea. For all of us, our physical form will pass away but the idea of us will live on, through either our offspring or what we left behind. This is a fact best embodied by the place where we rest after we pass on: graves.