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I was born on the eighteenth of August, 1911. In 1912 something bad happened and they buried me. After a lucky guess in a strange room, I was born again on the eleventh of April, 1995. All I remember is the room, filled with people in clothing from every era, even those that haven't passed. I chose the one who looked in the middle, and the man said "good choice". I can't tell if he was talking about my choice of mother or my choice of time, both are amazing things to experience. That's all that I can really say. Now is the best time to be alive. All the future people were covered in rags.