Excerpt from Death Be Not Proud- My Long Short Story

Memories mingled into one common existence (or inexistence) and began to blur. I tried to pick up the memories without selecting or editing them. That was the only thing I could do. Soon the memories merged into a vacuum and died. I tried to grab the memories without selecting or editing them but the memories merged into one common existence (or inexistence) and flew away from me. The congestion of the memories was replaced by a vacuum; the vacuum that might not be filled again. Memories flew away and made way for the vacuum and worked out the replacement. I remembered the memories but I got nothing I was there with my palms open to nothing. I was gaping to chew the escaping memories but I had nothing between the teeth; nothing on the tongue and nothing sliding down the throat. I was gaping and gazing without an aim or object. I don’t now whether it was the roof or the window; the departing stars above the sky or the young, invading sunrays. I don’t know whether it was the grey landscape. I don’t know if it was the drowse of the brown sodium light or the reawakening of the grey rocks towards my left spared for a local museum for history and entertainment. I don’t know if it was the awakening of the slumbering mass with stink stored within much cared frame of the body or the death of hope and memories and all that makes one man. I don’t know what it was; the congestion subsided and the vacuum survived. I know nothing further; nothing. I was afloat in the vacuum swimming across some nothing from nowhere to nowhere. I was afloat. I was in vapors. I was nowhere. There were no memories; no vacuum; no evaporation. I was afloat on some nothing in some nowhere.