Winston writes a greeting to the future

Winston writes in his diary: 'To the future or to the past, to a time when thought is free, when men are different from one another and do not live alone - to a time when truth exists and what is done cannot be undone: From the age of uniformity, from the age of solitude, from the age of Big Brother, from the age of doublethink - greetings!' He reflects that he is already dead, and that thoughtcrime does not entail death: thoughtcrime is death. He carefully scrubs the ink off his fingers with the gritty dark-brown soap, then hides the diary in the drawer, placing a grain of whitish dust on the cover so he can tell if it has been moved.