Some people believe in an afterlife. I do not; what I say will be based on the assumption that death is nothing, and final. I believe there is little to be said for it: it is a great curse, and if we truly face it nothing can make it palatable except the knowledge that by dying we can prevent an even greater evil. Otherwise, given the simple choice between living for another week and dying in five minutes I would always choose to live for another week; and by a version of mathematical induction I conclude that I would be glad to live forever.
Awake again so late at night? Or is it early in the morning now. Where the line is personally drawn is different for everyone, but I suppose that the sun will ultimately have the final say in the matter.
Sent to - Talkative: I’ve organized some enhancing literature for our hike this afternoon.
Sent to - Talkative: Part one of Virginia Woolf’s To the Lighthouse: a compelling read exploring themes of the nature of perception and the recollection of childhood memories into adulthood, all taking place against the stunning backdrop of the English countryside.
Sent to - Talkative: I supposed we could take occasional stops at scenic locations to enjoy the text in a group. And don’t worry, I’ll be providing copies for all of us.
Send me ↕ for a scared/worried text
Sent to - Talkative: I just saw a very large, stalking shadow pass infront of Romeo and I’s tent.
Sent to - Talkative: I’m not sure if it’s a bear or Maxie, but I’ve heard the zipper jiggle and knowing that it’s certainly not human: I’d far prefer it be a bear.
To Nelson Tailors: I know what you think of me, Vaira.
To Nelson Tailors: I also know that you think yourself very sly
To Nelson Tailors: And in a way, I feel that it’s something of a personal duty of mine to assure you that however clever you fancy yourself to be, you are not more clever than me. And that’s perfectly alright because you’re still a very intelligent woman. Very few people are truly as smart as they believe they are, and when you’ve lived and worked around simple people for your whole life it’s easy to begin believing that you’re in some way exceptional.
To Nelson Tailors: The truth is that you can and should think as highly of yourself as you can reach. Conversely, you can think of me just about whatever you’d like - good bad or indifferent. You can think I’m a windbag or a stick in the mud, awkward, boring, etcetera. I don’t care. I’m not the thought police, it doesn’t matter to me.
To Nelson Tailors: But there’s one thing that I feel I must correct you on, because I know I couldn’t count on you to realize the error yourself. You genuinely believe that I’m stupid, Vaira. And maybe that’s alright too - as I said, it’s not my place censor to thought. But more for your benefit than mine - in the interest of your own well being - my conscience forces me to warn you now: that if you plan to act on that sentiment, you’re going to face the rudest awakening of your life. You will never, ever, ever get one over on me.
To Nelson Tailors: So I suggest you cancel the tickets and unpack those bags now.
Send me ?? for a strange/vague text
To Nelson Tailors: You wouldn’t happen to be in touch with anyone who knows anything about primes, would you?
To Nelson Tailors: Very long prime numbers?
To Nelson Tailors: Please put me in touch if you are.
Send me ↕ for a scared/worried text
To Nelson Tailors: They seem to be getting awfully close to Nasty, Vaira. I’m seeing all sorts of conjecture in their group chats - Romeo won’t show me just what they’ve been discussing in private, but that’s the most concerning part of all.
To Nelson Tailors: She can’t teleport very far can she? Maybe we should begin searching.
To Nelson Tailors: I’m sure you could get her location before they do, then it’s only a matter of meeting her.
