I have been dead for years.
There was some cosmic error, and when I died, my body carried on projecting itself vividly in space.
I talked and walked, expressed hopes and fears, and interacted in quite an authentic seeming manner with people of all kinds, friendly and unfriendly, hot and cold.
I knew there was something missing, but unfortunately the exact moment of my death passed unnoticed at the time, and the realisation that I was a corpse was slow and doubtful.
When did I die?
Exact knowledge of the date, time and cause elude me still.
[Five details from an untitled and unfinished painting, followed by the whole thing, CB 2020, 510x404mm, acrylic on canvas board. The digital copy has been darkened.]