The question raised in the title of this piece comes from a moment when I began to think about my own death. Or rather about what will remain after me. After all, we all have people who are no longer with us. Or maybe they? In our memories? But what if we remember them differently than they really were? What were their votes? Or how their skin smelled? What made them laugh? I think it is as much a political responsibility as an intimate act of kindness in deciding what and how to remember. Therefore, I am looking for people who would like to remember me as an act of kindness. Do you think it could be you?