1897, October 3rd, London.
I am not quite certain why I started this blog. I suppose my position as a professor of my own field is quite satisfactory, but as of late I have been feeling…somewhat isolated, I think? It started in June, this prolongued seasonal melancholy. One day I merely woke up, and it felt as though some part had died within me without my knowledge. Perhaps, and though it is stupid and foolish to believe so, my life should have ended in June 1897. In some alternate Universe, it perhaps did. But for now, I am stuck in my position here in London, back at the same Univeristy I had graduated from, surrounded by the very same people I used to despise even in my student days. But I am getting off track.
Entertain me, world. For I’ve got nothing better to do.














