There is something about being dead that gives one a predilection for dwelling on the mistakes of the past and those opportunities lost to us rather than moving ever onward as the living often do. [ Says... Orpheus, the man who spent his entire life after it occurred dwelling on a singular, admittedly very major mistake and refusing to get past it. But still. ]

And it is inconvenient, somewhat, having to eat and sleep, isn't it? But I think, there is some joy and respite to be had in these simple pleasures, when there is a comfortable place to lie or a good meal to be had. It is a shame we cannot go and explore and work without need for rest, but perhaps it would be an equal shame not to have these moments of stillness and calm. I appreciate them now, here, more than I did in life originally.