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Connection, right?

The whole idea is connection.

What connects us? What makes us immortal?

You will not last forever.

They say that the internet is forever. Be careful what you put up here. It could always come back to haunt you.

This too, is not forever. One day the last server will shut down, the last spark of inorganic electricity will burn out, and all of this will be lost in a much more permanent way.

What will last longer, pen and paper, or words on a screen?

Who is to say?

We are all lonely guardians of our thoughts.

We are trying to reach out to one another.

It seems to be becoming more difficult than it used to be.

I am standing between towering bookshelves. They reach up beyond me, the tops of them seeming to become lost in a series of improbable clouds. I am the sole guardian of this knowledge. I am trying to impart it to you.

Are you able to understand it?

Are you trying to?

Are you a curious visitor, willing to pore over the meager clues that I have left behind in order to decipher my meaning? Or are you a fellow scholar on the other side of the shelves, working through your own indecipherable library, doomed to never cross paths with another?

We are probably both a bit of both.

You in your library and me in mine. 

Maybe I will break a hole through the wall, maybe dust will catch upon an inexplicable ray of sunlight. Maybe I will reach my hand through and grasp yours and you will be filled with the sudden fierce sensation that you are not alone.

Neither of us are alone.