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Sweet oblivion

Here I am, me, sitting on a chair in a house on a planet, spinning through space while my body ages away. What shall I write? What matters? Did my ancestors know? Or were they fools? Does my society know? Or are they fools? Shall I be selfless or hedonistic? Shall I work or shall I play? Shall I hold on or let go? Shall I fight against death or prepare for him to take me? Shall I strain my brain or succomb to oblvion?

B.

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