- flower Friday - in memory of Alma -

"To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, creeps in this petty pace from day to day, to the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools, the way to dusty death.

Out, out, brief candle!

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."

To bikerbear we send our condolences, our sorrow, our prayers