I pretended that the world could tolerate me, I pretended to be needed by the world, but I forgot that I never existed in their world.
I am not reborn, I still have a soul left. I pray every day to be redeemed by the world, but for whom am I atonement?
I only remember... He was choking, and he looked at me with some difficulty [Your name... Is a virtual thing... To return, knowing it] He gritted his teeth, and the corners of his eyes were red [Knowing... A virtual thing cannot be real, but... But willing... But willing to return...]
So, I had a name.
The man was a scholar and died of lung disease.