the simplest thing is that which is forgotten.
and yet complex.
if it is not remembered, does it exist? if it does, how? what perceives it when all there is to perceive it is itself?
the truth is it both does and does not.
being forgotten...
that is true hell.
and if you are not in hell, then someone... something... sees you.
let that comfort you.
flashes of neon... a scent of coffee... the only dregs of personage that remain here.
the last piece of a dead world.
the last piece of the first cycle.