33. When I'm gone, I want everybody crying. Everybody. I want my most beautiful picture to stand there wet from everybody's tears. I want even casual bypassers to stop, get emotional and leave sobbing. I want this sad awful Irish music to play. And I want the rain. Gray, endless, hopeless rain, that falls like a cold wall from the sky, without bubbles in the streams, without thunder... I want a whole sea of pastel roses, soaked in that grey rain - everywhere; any color, but bright - only pastel roses, baby-pink, tea, white gorgeous blossoms full with rain water... Yes, that's how I want it.