The Ghosts exist, though for what reason they do not know, as they blindly follow the steps of their Dance. Perhaps they once lived, yet due to the inescapable fact of their mortality they have become dead in all their past and future forms. Their lifeless Eyes, like mine yet unlike, stare straight through me. They call to my own Ghost, and it answers in my voice, yet not as I use it. I talk with the Ghosts, in shallow voices, share and spend time with them (how else can I spend it?). There is always a distance between us, for I am no Ghost. Yet my Skin fades, my Steps match those laid out for me and I listen to the Ghosts. My Shadow lengthens and I become my ghost.
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