992/9

No one even said "hullo" today. No one saw me. As if I'm a ghost already. Off beyond the veil. Like a puff of vapour, or like one of those smokes that I did try, then decided against. Burning, making lots of smoke, until only ashes remain, and they disperse quickly from the slightest wind.

What more is there now to wait for? What more is there to hope for?