Pro Memoria Official

"Don't you forget about dying," the slave whispered, his voice a dry rasp that cut through the thunder of the crowd. "Don't you forget about your friend death."

The Emperor’s smile didn't falter, but his grip on the chariot’s rail tightened. He looked at the vast monuments built in his name—stone and marble designed to last forever. Pro Memoria

The slave leaned in again, his eyes reflecting the setting sun. "Marble crumbles, and granite turns to dust. You ride home in triumph today, but the same earth waiting for the beggar at the gate is waiting for you." "Don't you forget about dying," the slave whispered,