Reading harold_maude's journal

I sit here reading a conversation that is encapsulated in a few words, written a couple of years ago.
I wonder what happened.

I started looking through the pages of people that have come to this place, and I noticed dates of last visit.
So many people, so many lives, voices that still echo off the walls.
Pages of a book that is a world unto itself.

You are the best immatation of you that exists