History was already over, but there aren't any endings. There never really were. Tomorrow always beckons, and things inevitably continue to happen. That's where I found myself. Just, happening at the end of history. With no reference to point to, I couldn't tell you what was different. Not even if I wanted to. Anyway, I'm sure you've done enough of this existing thing yourself to figure it out. Things were. How else do I describe it? Existence is. Even at the end of history. There isn't any other way to put it, not now, not before, and certainly not after. Look, look how our language became antiquated. Especially now it is illequiped to describe my time. For even though I can speak of before and now and after, there isn't really any. Distinction I mean. Now was now and will continue to be now, not before, not after. And yet, if history is the chronicalling of time, haven't I just contributed a piece?