Perhaps I’ve been coming at the existential all wrong. Better to forget about having all-that-had-been-me posthumously discovered, processed, and, possibly, retrospectively comprehended. Instead, keep a service running combing for my obituary. When conditions are met, it shall incinerate the material, overwrite the digital, and procure the purchase of premium billboard promotions in places like Times Square and Shibuya Crossing for a simple, stolen, single line, swan song:

So long, and thanks for all the fish!

☾𐂂