What wonderful thing didn't start out scary?

You know things are moving. You're changing, you fellow Dead are changing, the world is ready for something miraculous. What are we waiting for?

I want a new past,new memories, a new first handshake with love. I want to start over in every possible way.

Is this muteness a real physical handicap? One of the many symptoms of being Dead?Or do we just have nothing left to say?

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

The kind of stuff I usually read is a bit more on the literary side, like books that I think are influential in the sense that they're doing pulpy subject matter in a refined way. Like 'The Road' by Cormac McCarthy, I loved that book.

It's more eerie to be alone in a city that's lit up and functioning than one that's a tomb. If everything were silent, one could almost pretend to be in nature. A forest. A meadow. Crickets and birdsong. But the corpse of civilization is as restless as the creatures that now roam the graveyards.