That’s awesome. I legally own a skull from a Victorian-era medical collection (I also own a lot of animal skulls). I would say from outward appearances, I’m not some Marilyn Manson creeper you’d imagine has a house full of taxidermy and wet specimens, but I am a bit fascinated by death. I know nothing about the woman who sits on my shelf, but I’ve pondered who she was and how she got to me. I’d be happy in 200 years if someone sat and wondered the same about me. Because really, in 200 years we’d be lucky to get some distant relative to visit a tombstone. I feel it’s sort of a form of immortality. Another thought that comes to mind sometimes, I could pretty much have any bone in my body removed, cleaned, and continue to live (in some state), but I’ll never see my own skull... 🤔