weird to think you are a continuation of something rather than an isolated accident of time, matter and space. i feel more like an unconscious collision of two others who were themselves unconscious collisions, but that may be partly due to the weather and moodiness. i can't fathom how i'm a continuation of my father. when i contemplate his continuation i can't see it. he doesn't even seem to continue as a ghost, nor have i seen him in another animal incarnation. he does favor the grasshopper, but that's just a semblance. he seems to have stopped, not gone anywhere, just stopped, which is rather more mysterious. 
i pause. isn't this really boring? see, if this were live, i would have lost contact by now. maybe i have. is this still traveling in spacetime? i read about a bird, maybe the albatross, that can fly for years never landing. that sounds absurd. but maybe stuff once it gets on a certain stratum just keeps going. maybe thoughts are like the albatross, even when we sit inert and forget.