• Vol. 05
  • Chapter 01

And so, I chose to write…

Dead people tell don’t tell no tales. They tell more tales. I sat aloof, lost in oblivion, looked at the sky, called the "god" for justification!

I fell ill suddenly, went to the hospital, found my physiology and anatomy functioning perfectly! But, I understood not every disease is due to the malfunctioning of anatomies and physiologies, organs and organ systems! The death of my loved ones has taught me a lot of things. These losses keep me developing into a completely new human being.

I had just moved to a new place and new family. I tried to recall how my early days were. They were a beautiful mess of people; a bunch of humans who happened to find themselves in the same corner of the world, all in all attempting to make sense of what this life thing was about. Filled to the brim with wild dreams and an energetic interest, I had a craving for everything conceivable. I kept hearing my dead loved ones’ spirits talking late into the night, thinking about a part of the world – a period in our own life – that brought us so much joy.

To me, it is a pain that spreads far and wide. This pain is the very reason that people leave their homes and loved ones, to go in search of something else that they have never tasted, the reason for people to wander into the obscure, for an opportunity to find life all around the globe, for the way they inhale and love and deal with each other. It appears to be implausible, this idea that there's a human out there, put on this planet particularly for me...

I wrapped myself away from these thoughts. I decided to sell the stuff that the now-dead-then-living people gave me. The memories. Death has taught me that there is nothing truly permanent. Nothing, including the land, water, you, me! Yes, the state of "surety" turns out to be am element of uncertainty.


And so, I chose to write…

Yes, I spoke to all my beloved ones the night or even the hour before they kicked their buckets! And the "last" stuff these people gave me, was memories – memories that never can fade. And so, I chose to write our memories! And thus, I sold their stuff to the world. Yes, dead people's stuff for sale!