There was this young girl dancer. She suddenly became much better after disappearing for a short while. It was amazing, as if she had studied for a lifetime. Soon, she revealed that she had a way to swap her mind with that of her dying self. I eagerly prodded to find the method. It was a pen shaped chocolate with one word enscribed upon it–in gaelic it said something like “mysticism” but it also translated as “placebo”. Nevertheless, it was a necessary catalyst for the process. Somehow, I found the shop that sold these pens and soon I departed to find my dying self–because it was best to switch with a version of myself in the future, having lived a full life and now on my death bed.
I boarded a Russian boat and sailed for months. It took us through strong winds and seas filled with amazing things. Eventually, I found myself in a midieval hut where I my elderly self was dying. Now came the dissapointing part. I performed some ritual to the likes of which I cannot recall. Out from a rafter fell a copy of myself at my same age. He had the mind of my elderly self but was spry and youthful as I was. Apparently this was how it worked. I was now obsolete. There was a better me to take my place. It wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but it was a better outcome than nothing. I was still somewhat pleased and allowed the better me to take my life while I wandered the world.