I am Noone and Everyone.

   I am a ghost of a person. A fictional character.

      I can not help reading for if I don’t I seize to exist. My life starts as I open a book.  As I turn a page after a page I acquire Myself.

         The very exceptional, unique self, someone I’m calling “My self” for the sake of narration, this self is the mere contours securing the essence of a     book character, and together with it, the form, the beauty of its definitiveness, no matter how instantaneous and transient, lasting for the duration of this book.

            The death is indolent. In fact, there is no death as such as there’s never been real existence, in the conventional understanding of ‘real’.

This life is ephemeral, so is the end.

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