I thought I was the best photographer I knew. I could not be the best ever, I didn't know if I was good enough to be classified as the best, ever. But I did know, I had not met (in person) another photographer that was as good as I was, or better. Photographers of good quality in these parts were really hard to come by. So I thrived here; basic business rule: run a monopoly and thrive. I may not have been the only photographer to work in this city, to call it a monopoly outrightly. But I was the best, and everybody patronized my studio. So yes, it was a monopoly, technically.
I had a meeting to attend today. Across the street, next to the office building, was a set of children of unimaginable magnificence. They were happy, they played soccer with a small plastic ball. I brought out my camera, certain that this would be anothee award winning photograph.
I looked down on my body from this side of the world as I blood continued to ooze from my lifeless body. The truck that collided with my live unsuspecting body was still in the middle of the road and its driver, seated, bewildered at what he had done. I cried, in death, as I knew I wouldn't capture my own death.