He can be a dead father.
Then another person will grow into his form and flesh and I will have something to hate when it is old enough to be a man.
People think about who they are in the stillest hour of the night.
There are dead stars that still shine because their light is trapped in time. Where do I stand in this light, which does not strictly exist?
I know I'm talking to a gun who can't respond but how does she undress when she undresses?
Don DeLillo, Cosmopolis, Scribner, 2003.