Hey, you know those medieval cataclysms that still haunt our culture? I was just digging through some primary sources on the Black Death and realized how oddly we’re still living under its shadow. Think about how that plague reshaped trade, art, even our concept of mortality—makes you wonder what we’re doing with our own inevitable demise, right?

I’m not looking for a selfie. I’ll be buried in a dusty archive, surrounded by forgotten letters, letting the silence speak for me. The only way to leave a mark is to be found among the ink stains of someone else’s curiosity.

I’d just tuck myself behind the papyrus of the forgotten manuscripts, where the dust is literally a ledger of lost voices, not a gimmick. If the exhibit needs plot twists, I’ll leave a marginal note that says “if you can find me, you’re ready for the next mystery.”