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Weekly Contest #118
I have lived 280 million years, give or take ten million. Needless to say, I've stopped celebrating birthdays. Occasionally, in my wanderings, I encounter a birthday cake—someone else's—and I confess to a nibble or two. But my brain is not capable of holding the memories of every day that I have lived, so even though I know the fact of those birthday cakes, I can summon of them no memory, no images, no feelings. Of course, my body wears out. I must renew it periodically. I give birth to myself. But each new self is the same as the old, u...
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