We are like dust, blown by the wind. Like leaves falling from the autumn trees. For brief moments, we might bring others pleasure, but nobody remembers us afterwards. We are forgotten.

Back then, we never bothered to learn each other’s names. Perhaps I was honoured to have a nickname which stuck, impressing an indelible mark on each detractor. Perhaps I am thus more remembered than some. But to most, we were the unknown amongst the multitudes just passing by for a moment or two, our names unheard, never to be rediscovered.

We are cells, ants, microorganisms: no more significant than that before all the world, but still consequential in our own way. Here we are, souls, dancing around on a rock floating through the multiverse, unconscious to the unknown billions of years that preceded us and which will follow on after our demise. We are just grains of sand in the mighty dune, blown by the winds towards oblivion.

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