This is a lovely message, I hope I get a message like that posted on my open source project when my time comes.

I've always felt like the code I write is a piece of myself; a monument to leave behind for others to admire and interact with once I'm gone.

For me, software development creates an unmatched feeling of alignment. The idea that you could be dead and still share this feeling of alignment with others from beyond the grave is uplifting.

I suppose some people could say similar things about artworks, films or books. For some people, it's code.

Many people appreciate beautiful art, films, books, buildings even; but few people appreciate beautiful code. I think it's partly because most people have never seen beautiful code and partly because beautiful code doesn't pay the bills when maintenance work is billed by the hour... Probably why it's rare to begin with; though generally, open source provides a refuge from this by removing (or reducing) the financial incentive.

> Many people appreciate beautiful art, films, books, buildings even; but few people appreciate beautiful code. I think it's partly because most people have never seen beautiful code and partly because beautiful code doesn't pay the bills when maintenance work is billed by the hour... Probably why it's rare to begin with; though generally, open source provides a refuge from this by removing (or reducing) the financial incentive.

I think there's a a bit more of fundamental difference. For art, film, and books, the output isn't really intended to be functional as much as aesthetic. Buildings do also have function, but they're also visually striking even to those who aren't architects. Software usually has some functional goal beyond just aesthetics, which for most people makes the code a means to an end rather than the end itself. Most people generally don't spend a lot of time appreciating the individual pigments of a painting or the engineering behind making the skeleton of the building that ensures it stands up either.