I've always been interested in writing from the perspective of an outsider.

That's why we have memory. And the opposite of memory— hope. So things that are gone can still matter. So we can built off our pasts and make future.

Last winter, when so many Living joined the Dead and our prey became scarce, I watched some of my friends become full-dead. The transition was undramatic. They just slowed down, then stopped, and after a while I realised they were corpses. It disquieted me at first, but it’s against etiquette to notice when one of us dies. I distracted myself with some groaning.

Can we really choose anything?' 'Maybe. If we want to bad enough.

Writing isn't letters on paper. It's communication. It's memory.

We are where we are, however we got here. What matters is where we go next.

I'm not a general or a colonel or a builder of cities. I'm just a corpse who wants not to be.