The Last Man On Planet Earth ✪

Still here. Still breathing. Just a man on a big, green, silent rock.

Should I focus the next post on a you're facing, or perhaps a discovery you made while scavenging the ruins? The Last Man on Planet Earth

I found a guitar today in a dusty apartment. I don’t know how to play, but I plucked one string. The note echoed down the hallway, vibrating through the floorboards. It was the only music left in the world. For a second, I felt like the conductor of a ghost orchestra. Still here

I spent the afternoon sitting on the roof of a skyscraper, watching a pack of wolves hunt through the overgrown grass of what used to be 5th Avenue. The planet is doing just fine without us. Better, actually. The air is so clear it hurts, and the stars at night are so bright they feel like an accusation. Should I focus the next post on a

I woke up today and realized I’ve stopped looking at my watch. Time doesn’t really belong to anyone anymore; it’s just the sun moving across the floor of this empty library.