I remember all those days. I guess they vanished, succumbing to a nonexistence that is eating away at every moment of my existence. Only my conscience remains, which is fading from day to day. I remember all those days, in which I saw the sky fascinated, marveling at infinity. Warm days, cold days, whose difference no longer matters. The nonexistence is eating away every fragment of my own reality. After all, I am only existing.
