May 30, 2025
I lay there shameless and scared. My body was slowly and gradually decomposing, and I was being eaten by hundreds of insects. My eyes had long since lost the ability to see, but for some reason my consciousness was still clinging to the shreds of reality. It seemed that time itself had stopped over my corpse, as damp air seeped into my skin, which turned to clay. The insects were my only companions: they greedily rummaged through my insides, as if they were solving the riddle of my existence. An old tree leaned over me, its shadow enveloping me and then disappearing. The wind brought the smell of rot, and even it seemed to be part of some higher ritual. What was left of me? Memories? Terror? Repentance? What feeling?
