He is an author; was or will be. He was the dreamer who dared to follow the butterfly that led him here. He hoped for an audience somewhere in the world. He hated his words, his work and the people who agreed with him. He changed both for better and worse. He was desperate, craving for something out of reach. He smiled at the young, inexperienced parts he'd met. And he was clueless, wishing for something to cut out the numbness.

He is an author.

And he can die.

He had lived a thousand lives before. What difference would it make to do it all again?