I’m seventy-five, and as far as I know, I’m the last man standing. I haven’t seen a saint or sinner for over twenty years. Years of solitude, crazy years, sorrowful years. How did it all start? I have no idea. Three days was all it took, and then it was all gone, everything, everyone, everyone but me. Most died after a few minutes, some a few hours, but they all died – all died but me.
I live in this lighthouse, alone. No dog, no pets, no one, just me alone…
I’m not a special person, no particular skills or abilities. I was a postman, so I knew people, I used to know people… but that’s all. I was a husband, but I’m not one now, never a father, and that’s kind of a blessing I suppose.
So, I’m telling this more for myself than for a reader, but somebody to read this would be nice, but if I met you I’d probably be very rude, and ask what took you so long?
So, this is my kind of diary, a diary of a nobody….