Steps, footprints on the white snow. It doesn't matter who left the footprints; the bodies fade away, leaving behind only a vague idea.
Voices remain that whisper in our heads, we call them thoughts. They too slowly disappear, leaving us feeling lost. We steal those of others.
Erik Satie ~ Once Upon A Time In Paris (Artwork by Edouard Leon Cortes) They are becoming fewer, and everything slowly vanishes, disappearing into a white point marked by a deep C.