People, right? People = wrong. People. Right. Left and finally gone.
Never liked them. Much. Too much effort spent on too many individuals.
Don’t know their names. Their quantities were regrettably forgettable. Guess it’s
too hard to be unique in these troubled times when anyone could die just like
our ancestors. Are we really cursed? Could I borrow the latest catalogue of
DIVINITY FOR REASONABLE PRICES? Every time I feel the hard surface of mirror in
my bathroom I know. Every time I look at the reflection of some guy who looks
like me I feel I’m dying. Every day of my life I am dying.
Until I finally die.
At least one task finished.
And I can only hope there’s either no afterlife or no people in it.