My dad never shared my love of stark landscapes and high cliffs. He preferred open planes and grass. So he loved Stonehenge, which with its little monument looked a bit (probably not coincidentally) like the family burial plot back home. Anyway, he asked that if he died during the Earth expedition for us to spread his ashes here, so we did. It was a busy time, so I think some humans probably got a better than healthy huff of him. If you grow an extra hand, it's his.
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