A laboratory of invention, a home for stream of consciousness scribbles, passages of undetermined length, and discombobulated story fragments.
Updated Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.
It was with a lot of regret that I pronounced the passing of my dearest brother. Not only was he a better man than I would ever be, and younger than me to boot, but he changed the world, and nobody knows.
He didn't want anyone to know, and while I'd like to be respectful of his wishes, to be frank, he's dead and his wishes no longer matter.
I do feel perhaps a hint of guilt, after all, maybe there is some realm where the dead congregate, and watch over our actions, or are otherwise still affected by them, but since we lack a system of two way communication with those departed, I must assume, by the lack of tangible evidence to the contrary, that the dead have simply ceased to exist and are now dust, lacking in the ability to feel betrayal, or anything else for that matter, for their dying wishes not being executed to their exact specifications.
Therefore, in what is somewhat of a compromise I suppose, I will here now outline how my dearest brother changed the world, for all to know.
The rest of this document is sadly unreadable, as it seems like someone has spilled a dark beverage all over the lower half of the page.