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3000

 It says exactly 3000 people have been here.

3000 people have walked over my grave, not one of them has left any flowers.

I don’t like a fuss. Who cares?

The domain will fade as will I and I imagine this will fold in on itself like the weather sometimes does.

What is it?

It’s just something for me to do. It keeps me out of trouble, but at the same time it gets me in the worst trouble of my life.

It’s not real. It’s just my reality. It’s just the world turning around me and me looking into the shadows to see what’s there.

For some reason the radio is on. It’s the wrong day. The radio shouldn’t be on today.

Have I missed a day or has a day missed me?

What is happening?

So where does everyone come from?

It looks like the Americans wander here by mistake a lot.

Where do they go?

You tell me. You are them.

In the grand scheme of things 3000 is not many. It’s a drop on a teaspoon that’s stirring the ocean.

No-one has ever said anything either.

Not one thing.

Do ghosts speak?

Do they have anything to say besides ‘boo’ ?

11:11

Make a wish.

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