If Nobody were to ask, “Who is Nobody?”, I would answer, “Nobody is not Somebody.”
But if you, dear nonexistent reader, were to ask, “Who is Nobody?”, then I would answer, “Nobody is not Somebody.”
Because for once, the only time that I can’t remember, I would answer Nobody truthfully because Nobody is no one and nothing and he is definitely not Somebody. You may then ask, “But if Nobody is not Somebody, then who is Nobody?”
And I would repeat, “Nobody is no one and nothing. He has no form, no character, no personality. Nobody is, in fact, the absence of Somebody.”
“Then who is Somebody?” you ask.
“Somebody is the counterpart of Anybody,” I answer.
“But who is Somebody?” you ask again, slightly exasperated.
“Somebody is someone,” I answer, tired of your tiring questions.
“What does that even mean?” you ask.
I shrug. If you are unwilling to understand, I am unwilling to explain. But Nobody is a complex… something.
“Who is Nobody?” you try again, unsatisfied with my half-hearted answers.
“He is no one.”