Friday, September 14, 2007

People don't really exist you know, they fluoresce. That is to say they flicker, every single colour at the same time. I suppose it's a sort of curse that urbanites are stuck with, trying to do too much and be too many things at the same time. It's all good.

Nowadays, I find myself with enough free time that I can while it away wastefully. No, I don't mean I'm not studying, that activity is hardly even important enough. As it is, I give most of my attention to my assorted electrical hedonistic implements, be they the computer or the television.

And when all the killing and maiming is done, every channel exhausted of potential, it is with a sigh that I turn off the power and consign the house to silence. It's like the turn of a key, the last clod of earth landing on a coffin. It is, in short, horribly like dying.

The marquis de Carabas looked up at him. His eyes were very white in the moonlight. And he whispered, "What's it like being dead? It's very cold, my friend. Very dark, and very cold."