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I have never felt this way before. After watching Lenore, the cute little dead girl (http://www.spookyland.com) and understanding it simple complexity, I have seen myself as an unknown person.

I am an antology of my past, with bright new pages echted every fraction of a second of my slow decay. Impermanence. I see myself as a collection of the past and the present that then becomes past, and the future that will then convert itself into the present and past. Yet, I look at the past and I become puzzled, I can't distinguish myself from the past, but I am still too different from the past and yet look very similar to it.

My big sister asked me to play with her. She asked me to pull a plastic truck with a track inside it with small cars. It was a blue truck from MicroMachines, remember them? I don't know if they still manufacture them. They have an inside track where you can create and build your own world by means of small, little plastic cars. I opened the truck to observe its interiors. It was a NASCAR track. Then, it hit me. I remember very clearly the pleasure I experimented as I played with that toy, when I was quite young and not so sophisticated. I remember now, the buttons pressed, the plastic cars rushing through the track, hissing and scraping, the curve and then the starting line. I remember it. And I can still feel the pleasure of playing, the pleasure of infancy, of inocence. Time and age are those who take your freedom away, we must find some ways to break to chains that hold us prisioners and live, leave a legacy, then die.