
the Collector in search of the perfect pepe' through metaverse diary; day 1269; 9:00 p.m. the same day every day, the same ode of terror sung by the same curator buried in the same shit yesterday. the last page of this notebook, or rather the only chance to keep me on this rotten earth the monitors show that the air is still too polluted to breathe; >I already know this recording by heart, it's the only element that still reminds me of what I once knew; time seems to pass more and more slowly, and I feel myself draining with it, slowly but surely; the last page of this notebook, all I have left, and I fill it with shit, I'm used to it, nobody reads it. the sounds I hear have become unbearable, I resigned myself to believing that they are real. > weather is good, shit, the same day every day, the same ode to terror sung by the same taxi driver buried in the same shit yesterday. -Do you know?> After so long the brain can no longer stand reality, it makes you scenarios, scenarios that af