Those of you who know me well, know that I enjoy our site's rich history. I always find that the '04 accounts that weren't deleted, like mine was, are still entirely inactive. I know that anything I say to them won't b returned, and that my words fall upon deaf ears. I know that thy are dead, but out of death they speak, their words sprawling across forever. Even the deleted users call out, faceless and deaf, but not voiceless. The ancients abide here as well as I might, and hold no sign of decay, but rather, they are as titans, speaking forth unto us, and their words are laced with the authority of distance, and the power of age. They are as whispers in the wind, always in my ear, always on my mind. How long until our words are all that are left of us? How long until we are only whispers?