I took a deep breath, ignored the rumbling of Mount Vesuvius in the distance, and began.
"I was left to my own de-vi-ces," I sang, my voice echoing off the marble pillars. I didn't just sing it; I lived it. I did the little percussion sounds with my tongue— chk-chk, boom —to really set the mood. I took a deep breath, ignored the rumbling
I held the note for three minutes. The ash encased me in a permanent, singing pose—a masterpiece of vocal commitment. Thousands of years later, archaeologists found me. They didn't find a person; they found a legend frozen in a mid-belt "Eh-he-oh." I took a deep breath