AN UNWRITTEN AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF SOMEONE WHO NEVER EVEN GOT TO EXIST (author unknown)

I mean, it starts like this: “We enjoyed the swimming, the constant nourishment, the warmth and the loud beating musical input our mother gave us (mostly seventies prog rock, it has to be said), as well as each other’s company. It was constantly dark in there, but there would be a light at the end of the tunnel in a few months' time.” See where we’re going? This pretentious bile continues. “I started to realise he was getting bigger than me. I didn’t feel well.” Thankfully, it is a short book. One day, our author’s companion is 'expelled' out of the story and then everything goes dark. Indeed the remaining two hundred and thirty one pages are completely blank. Reading self-pitying drivel likes this only makes one wish one had never been born.

Sub Marina.

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