The Diary is made according to your life expectancy. You ordered it several months ago and have been eagerly waiting for it to arrive. The book is bulky and heavy, containing hundreds or even thousands of pages.
You open it and find your name written on the front page and then the years, from the first day to last.
Today’s date is on the first page. You flip through it, year after year, to the end. You close it, but nothing chan­ges; for now, the pages turn by them­selves. The object is like an alter ego of paper, forever accessible.