What would you offer then, for this flesh?

Will you find three dozen and three dozen maidens, to sing me a dirge while you pull meat from sinew, and lament my passing as you chew on my bones?

Would you tan this skin, and bind with it a book, which I may fill later with my dreams of the darkness?

Will you plan my seeds, and tend the garden until my flesh blooms again?

How I should like to be devoured, one can never over-indulge in such things! But, it must be done properly, my dear.