Day 41: March 11 (written)
Azana laughed. But her heart was weary. What was the point of her life? Or this story, if one was inclined to think of stories like that? What was she doing? What would it be worth to others in the future if she had lived at all? And what did it matter if they knew at all? Others, especially those that were only possibilities, were not the ones she should measure her life. Only she could do that.