One never dies, if you don't mind me telling you this, whoever you are. As I lived from day to day, growing up from a teenage boy to a physically strong farm labourer, I was often visited witht the thought that my life was not worth living. In fact, I was often under the impression that I already was a dead man living my life as a ghost. If no one showed interest or paid attention, it didn't trouble me in the least. In a way, they were dead to me, too; I counteracted it with the same amount of uninterest and inattention for I was dead myself. It was only when I really died decades later that I came alive, because of a spirit that had accompanied me all my life that I had not been aware of in my youth. In that spirit I am speaking to you, whoever you are and however after it is. Which is why I, when alive, was fonder of sleeping than anything else, more than having it with a woman, because I couldn't afford it and had to pay for it. In sleep, I paid no one and I had the freedom of wandering in my land, Singland, with total unconcern and total abandon. I meet a guy who speaks a language no one spoke in my native place and I understand him perfectly. I run into a pack of wolves that beg me to help because their parents were eaten alive by a local lion. It takes me little time to find the dastardly beast and kill him with my loaded gun, a gun grown in my eyes, which I only have to aim and think into shooting before my eyesight hits the target and strikes death. And, I wouldn't mind telling you, too, that in Singland, where I wander from dream to dream, I become a peace hero because I can relate to all the dead, who live in absolute equality, without regard of anything, skin or state, money or monarch, beauty or ugliness, no one above anyone else, all speaking the same language, the one that stranger speaks that I understand. When you are dead you are blissful. Little wonder that each waking from each sleep of dreams came as a bitter disappointment to me. But why would I keep sharing this secret of mine with you, you the vulgar beings full of life that you think you are, each just a shadow of death stalking you for life?