The Never Ending Story
"'The Nothing is spreading,' groaned the first. 'It's growing and growing, there's more of it every day, if it's possible to speak of more nothing. All the others fled from Howling Forest in time, but we didn't want to leave our home. The Nothing caught us in our sleep and this is what it did to us.'
'Is it very painful?' Atreyu asked.
'No,' said the second bark troll, the one with the hole in his chest. 'You don't feel a thing. There's just something missing. And once it gets hold of you, something more is missing every day. Soon there won't be anything left of us.'"
-Micheal Ende, The Never Ending Story
As Lamik Fillestar, Hogwarts Graduate
@Annie Morgan
21st of July, 2025
Annie,
I suspect this letter will come as something of a surprise to you. I appreciate this fact, but ask you to understand the dilemma I find myself in, and therefore to forgive my reaching out to you so suddenly.
As you certainly know, I graduated from Hogwarts this year (alongside you, of course. Congratulations). I'd prefer not to dwell on the details of the graduation day. I find the whole ceremony to be a reminder of things better left forgotten. The point is that I am done. I am done, and being done have been left with a choice (a choice which is, it is worth noting, distinct from the aforementioned dilemma, which I will make certain to clarify below): I have the opportunity to, for once, ignore it all. Snap my wand in half. Go home to my parents and sister and pretend that the past 7 years were some extended, wonderful, regrettable fever dream.
I say it is a choice. It is not. It is not an option.
I do not believe myself to be of "Muggle" sensibilities. I suspect "Muggle" sensibilities do not exist. I doubt there are more than a handful of people in the world who, having been introduced to the Mysteries (Ala ancient Greece, though leaning towards the Isisian rather than Eleusinian), which I have come to know as Hogwarts and the Wizarding World in general, and forced and tempted to immerse themselves in their majesty, could simply take an out when it is offered to them - I am reminded of the discovery of a certain ring famous in muggle literature (less malicious, perhaps. Bastian and Auryn?) - the mind is elsewhere, even if the body returns home.
So, no longer forced to stand in the dazzling sun, but unable to step back into my cave, a second choice (still distinct from my dilemma) presented itself. I recently visited Diagon Alley. I stood under those old, warped buildings, in the middle of that crowded, busy street, for the better part of an hour. It made me want to throw up. I swear that out of those thousands of heads and dozens of storefronts, I could make sense of less than a dozen. 7 years and less than a dozen things make sense. What was I to do with myself?
Have you ever considered that wherever you go, there is at your side another? Half a person, with a personality but no soul, or perhaps a soul but no mind. The wizarding world is opened to us through the use of our wands, and I have grown over time to feel a deep discomfort with this fact.
I am getting ahead of myself. Let me try again.
Following that visit to Diagon Alley, I returned home. The entire journey was accompanied by a dull nausea, and I stepped onto the porch of the house in which I had grown up only to experience vertigo intense enough to make me fall to my knees. I was bedridden for 3 days or so, with a high fever, eating away at a virus which I do not think was there. I will not pretend to have any real familiarity with the workings of the human body, but I am quite sure that what I was suffering through was merely a physical response to an ailment of the mind by the name of Fear.
You must understand that there is nowhere in the world in which I find more comfort than at home. As cliche as it may be, thought of the safety which my family affords me, and which those familiar doors and walls and floors and childhood toys surround me with, has kept me going when little else could. I know that house like the back of my hand. I can imagine the faces of my parents with a level of vividness and detail that you would not believe. I say all of this to get across the intensity of what I felt when I stepped on that porch. I swear to you that when the front door opened, I did not recognize the face of the woman who came out to hug me.
It was my mother. Of course it was. The confusion passed soon enough, with that subtle shift behind the eyes that occurs when you notice the face in a Rubin Vase. A Rubin Vase is an apt comparison, actually. In those first few moments, I saw not my mother, but a foreign, complex geometry - just stuff arranged person-wise. The process with which a mind recognizes its surroundings failed me, and continued to fail me well after the Vase faded away. During that first day I had to reacquaint myself with my own home. There was no similar scare with my father, nor with, thank god, my sister, but each room and each object was foreign before it was familiar, and any comfort or safety was preceded by a dread which I struggle to put into words.
I've had time to think this event over, and have since
I am running out of paper. For now, I will merely inform you that I was recently accepted into the WAVAD's London Campus. Classes have not yet started, and will not until September.
I admit that I would appreciate it if, after reading this, you find it reasonable to send me a response. I am under no illusion that you have any obligations towards me however - I have not put in much effort in the realm of maintaining our acquaintance - and rest easier knowing merely that you have done me the favor of reading what thoughts I have managed to get across with pen and paper.
With great appreciation,
Lamik
Reducio
Annie,
I suspect this letter will come as something of a surprise to you. I appreciate this fact, but ask you to understand the dilemma I find myself in, and therefore to forgive my reaching out to you so suddenly.
As you certainly know, I graduated from Hogwarts this year (alongside you, of course. Congratulations). I'd prefer not to dwell on the details of the graduation day. I find the whole ceremony to be a reminder of things better left forgotten. The point is that I am done. I am done, and being done have been left with a choice (a choice which is, it is worth noting, distinct from the aforementioned dilemma, which I will make certain to clarify below): I have the opportunity to, for once, ignore it all. Snap my wand in half. Go home to my parents and sister and pretend that the past 7 years were some extended, wonderful, regrettable fever dream.
I say it is a choice. It is not. It is not an option.
I do not believe myself to be of "Muggle" sensibilities. I suspect "Muggle" sensibilities do not exist. I doubt there are more than a handful of people in the world who, having been introduced to the Mysteries (Ala ancient Greece, though leaning towards the Isisian rather than Eleusinian), which I have come to know as Hogwarts and the Wizarding World in general, and forced and tempted to immerse themselves in their majesty, could simply take an out when it is offered to them - I am reminded of the discovery of a certain ring famous in muggle literature (less malicious, perhaps. Bastian and Auryn?) - the mind is elsewhere, even if the body returns home.
So, no longer forced to stand in the dazzling sun, but unable to step back into my cave, a second choice (still distinct from my dilemma) presented itself. I recently visited Diagon Alley. I stood under those old, warped buildings, in the middle of that crowded, busy street, for the better part of an hour. It made me want to throw up. I swear that out of those thousands of heads and dozens of storefronts, I could make sense of less than a dozen. 7 years and less than a dozen things make sense. What was I to do with myself?
Have you ever considered that wherever you go, there is at your side another? Half a person, with a personality but no soul, or perhaps a soul but no mind. The wizarding world is opened to us through the use of our wands, and I have grown over time to feel a deep discomfort with this fact.
I am getting ahead of myself. Let me try again.
Following that visit to Diagon Alley, I returned home. The entire journey was accompanied by a dull nausea, and I stepped onto the porch of the house in which I had grown up only to experience vertigo intense enough to make me fall to my knees. I was bedridden for 3 days or so, with a high fever, eating away at a virus which I do not think was there. I will not pretend to have any real familiarity with the workings of the human body, but I am quite sure that what I was suffering through was merely a physical response to an ailment of the mind by the name of Fear.
You must understand that there is nowhere in the world in which I find more comfort than at home. As cliche as it may be, thought of the safety which my family affords me, and which those familiar doors and walls and floors and childhood toys surround me with, has kept me going when little else could. I know that house like the back of my hand. I can imagine the faces of my parents with a level of vividness and detail that you would not believe. I say all of this to get across the intensity of what I felt when I stepped on that porch. I swear to you that when the front door opened, I did not recognize the face of the woman who came out to hug me.
It was my mother. Of course it was. The confusion passed soon enough, with that subtle shift behind the eyes that occurs when you notice the face in a Rubin Vase. A Rubin Vase is an apt comparison, actually. In those first few moments, I saw not my mother, but a foreign, complex geometry - just stuff arranged person-wise. The process with which a mind recognizes its surroundings failed me, and continued to fail me well after the Vase faded away. During that first day I had to reacquaint myself with my own home. There was no similar scare with my father, nor with, thank god, my sister, but each room and each object was foreign before it was familiar, and any comfort or safety was preceded by a dread which I struggle to put into words.
I've had time to think this event over, and have since
I am running out of paper. For now, I will merely inform you that I was recently accepted into the WAVAD's London Campus. Classes have not yet started, and will not until September.
I admit that I would appreciate it if, after reading this, you find it reasonable to send me a response. I am under no illusion that you have any obligations towards me however - I have not put in much effort in the realm of maintaining our acquaintance - and rest easier knowing merely that you have done me the favor of reading what thoughts I have managed to get across with pen and paper.
With great appreciation,
Lamik
I suspect this letter will come as something of a surprise to you. I appreciate this fact, but ask you to understand the dilemma I find myself in, and therefore to forgive my reaching out to you so suddenly.
As you certainly know, I graduated from Hogwarts this year (alongside you, of course. Congratulations). I'd prefer not to dwell on the details of the graduation day. I find the whole ceremony to be a reminder of things better left forgotten. The point is that I am done. I am done, and being done have been left with a choice (a choice which is, it is worth noting, distinct from the aforementioned dilemma, which I will make certain to clarify below): I have the opportunity to, for once, ignore it all. Snap my wand in half. Go home to my parents and sister and pretend that the past 7 years were some extended, wonderful, regrettable fever dream.
I say it is a choice. It is not. It is not an option.
I do not believe myself to be of "Muggle" sensibilities. I suspect "Muggle" sensibilities do not exist. I doubt there are more than a handful of people in the world who, having been introduced to the Mysteries (Ala ancient Greece, though leaning towards the Isisian rather than Eleusinian), which I have come to know as Hogwarts and the Wizarding World in general, and forced and tempted to immerse themselves in their majesty, could simply take an out when it is offered to them - I am reminded of the discovery of a certain ring famous in muggle literature (less malicious, perhaps. Bastian and Auryn?) - the mind is elsewhere, even if the body returns home.
So, no longer forced to stand in the dazzling sun, but unable to step back into my cave, a second choice (still distinct from my dilemma) presented itself. I recently visited Diagon Alley. I stood under those old, warped buildings, in the middle of that crowded, busy street, for the better part of an hour. It made me want to throw up. I swear that out of those thousands of heads and dozens of storefronts, I could make sense of less than a dozen. 7 years and less than a dozen things make sense. What was I to do with myself?
Have you ever considered that wherever you go, there is at your side another? Half a person, with a personality but no soul, or perhaps a soul but no mind. The wizarding world is opened to us through the use of our wands, and I have grown over time to feel a deep discomfort with this fact.
I am getting ahead of myself. Let me try again.
Following that visit to Diagon Alley, I returned home. The entire journey was accompanied by a dull nausea, and I stepped onto the porch of the house in which I had grown up only to experience vertigo intense enough to make me fall to my knees. I was bedridden for 3 days or so, with a high fever, eating away at a virus which I do not think was there. I will not pretend to have any real familiarity with the workings of the human body, but I am quite sure that what I was suffering through was merely a physical response to an ailment of the mind by the name of Fear.
You must understand that there is nowhere in the world in which I find more comfort than at home. As cliche as it may be, thought of the safety which my family affords me, and which those familiar doors and walls and floors and childhood toys surround me with, has kept me going when little else could. I know that house like the back of my hand. I can imagine the faces of my parents with a level of vividness and detail that you would not believe. I say all of this to get across the intensity of what I felt when I stepped on that porch. I swear to you that when the front door opened, I did not recognize the face of the woman who came out to hug me.
It was my mother. Of course it was. The confusion passed soon enough, with that subtle shift behind the eyes that occurs when you notice the face in a Rubin Vase. A Rubin Vase is an apt comparison, actually. In those first few moments, I saw not my mother, but a foreign, complex geometry - just stuff arranged person-wise. The process with which a mind recognizes its surroundings failed me, and continued to fail me well after the Vase faded away. During that first day I had to reacquaint myself with my own home. There was no similar scare with my father, nor with, thank god, my sister, but each room and each object was foreign before it was familiar, and any comfort or safety was preceded by a dread which I struggle to put into words.
I've had time to think this event over, and have since
I am running out of paper. For now, I will merely inform you that I was recently accepted into the WAVAD's London Campus. Classes have not yet started, and will not until September.
I admit that I would appreciate it if, after reading this, you find it reasonable to send me a response. I am under no illusion that you have any obligations towards me however - I have not put in much effort in the realm of maintaining our acquaintance - and rest easier knowing merely that you have done me the favor of reading what thoughts I have managed to get across with pen and paper.
With great appreciation,
Lamik
Last edited by Lamik Fillestar on 8 Jul 2026, 22:23, edited 6 times in total.
Wisdom: 18 - Arcane Power: 15 - Accuracy: 13 - Stamina: 9 - Strength: 4 - Evasion: 22
Binding Mark - Blind Vision - Paragon of Health - Spell Spread - Perfectionist
The Never Ending Story
Annie Morgan - Hogwarts Graduate
Interacting with @Lamik Fillestar
Date - August 23rd, 2025
Interacting with @Lamik Fillestar
Date - August 23rd, 2025
𝒟𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝐿𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓀,
𝒮𝓊𝓇𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓈𝑒𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓈𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹, 𝒶𝓉 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓂𝓎 𝒾𝓃𝒾𝓉𝒾𝒶𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓎 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇. 𝐼 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝓎 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓃𝓉'𝓈 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓈𝒸𝓇𝒾𝒷𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝒷𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓏𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝓇𝑜𝓉𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒. 𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓈 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝓈𝒶𝒻𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓂𝑒.
𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹, 𝐼 𝑜𝓌𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓉𝓊𝓁𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝑜𝓃 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝒹𝓊𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓈 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁. 𝐼𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝑒𝓈𝓃'𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑔𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒, 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝒾𝒹 𝒾𝓉. 𝑀𝓎 𝒻𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝒶 𝓈𝒾𝓂𝒾𝓁𝒶𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒽𝒾𝑔𝒽 𝓈𝒸𝒽𝑜𝑜𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝓁𝑒𝑔𝑒, 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝒹𝓊𝒶𝓉𝑒, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝒶 𝓅𝒾𝑒𝒸𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓅𝒶𝓅𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝓎𝓂𝒷𝑜𝓁𝒾𝓏𝑒𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒹𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒽𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝓎𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑒𝒹. 𝐵𝑒𝓎𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉, 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓊𝓅 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝓊𝓉𝓊𝓇𝑒.
𝐹𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒶 𝒸𝒽𝑜𝒾𝒸𝑒, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓇𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓉. 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝑜𝓉𝒽 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝒶𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓊𝓃𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝒶𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃'𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓁 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽 𝒾𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽. 𝟩 𝓎𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝒸𝒶𝓃𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓈𝒾𝓂𝓅𝓁𝓎 𝒷𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑒𝒹, (𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓉𝓇𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝑜𝒷𝓁𝒾𝓋𝒾𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻). 𝐵𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒹𝑜𝑒𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝓁𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝓊𝓅𝑜𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓇𝑒𝒸𝑒𝒾𝓋𝑒𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇. 𝐼𝒻 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝑜𝓊𝓉𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝑒𝓎𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑀𝒾𝓃𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓇𝓎 𝐼 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒿𝓊𝓂𝓅 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝒻𝒻𝑒𝓇 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹 𝓌𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓁𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝑜 𝑒𝒶𝓈𝒾𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝑒 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝒷𝓁𝒾𝓋𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈.
𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝒷𝓁𝒾𝓋𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝒶𝒹, 𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒶 𝓈𝒶𝒻𝑒 𝓈𝓅𝒶𝒸𝑒, 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒸𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓇𝑒𝒻𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝑜. 𝑀𝓎 𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓇𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝓈𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓇𝒹 𝓎𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒶 𝒸𝒶𝓋𝑒. 𝒜 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒹𝑒𝑒𝓅, 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝒸𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝓁𝑜𝓌𝓁𝓎 𝒻𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓌𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓇, 𝓎𝑒𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒷𝑜𝒹𝓎 𝓇𝑒𝒻𝓊𝓈𝑒𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒻𝓁𝑜𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒻𝓁𝒶𝒾𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓊𝓁𝓉𝒾𝓂𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝒹𝓇𝑜𝓌𝓃. 𝐼'𝓋𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓇𝑒-𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓃 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒, 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝓌𝒾𝓂, 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝑜 𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓀, 𝓈𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝓃𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓏𝓏𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝓊𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓉𝒽 𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒. 𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓂 𝓉𝑒𝒹𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝓃 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝑜𝑜. 𝐸𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝒾𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓎𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝑔𝑒𝓉𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇, 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇.
𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓇𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝓊𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝐼 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝑔𝑜 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝟩 𝓎𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝐼 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓈𝓉𝓁𝑒. 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 𝑜𝓃 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝓊𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝐼'𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝒹𝑒, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃'𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝐼'𝓋𝑒 𝑒𝓍𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓇𝑒𝒹, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓋𝒶𝓁𝓊𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝒶 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑜𝓃, 𝒶 𝒬𝓊𝒾𝒹𝒹𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽 𝑔𝒶𝓂𝑒, 𝑜𝓇 𝒶 𝓈𝒾𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓁𝓁.
𝒯𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝐼 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒻𝑒𝓈𝓈, 𝐼 𝑜𝒷𝒿𝑒𝒸𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒹𝑒𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝒻𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝒾𝓁𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉. 𝐹𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝒾𝓈 𝒶 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒, 𝒶 𝓈𝑒𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝑔𝓊𝑒𝓈 𝓅𝑒𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓃 𝓈𝑒𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈𝓁𝓎 𝑜𝓇 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝒸𝓀𝓁𝓎. 𝐼𝓉 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒻𝑒𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝓊𝒾𝓁𝒹 𝓊𝓅, 𝑜𝓇 𝒾𝓉 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝑔𝑜 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓊𝓅 𝓊𝓃𝑒𝓍𝓅𝑒𝒸𝓉𝑒𝒹𝓁𝓎 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝒸𝑒. 𝐼𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓊𝓇𝓃 𝒽𝑜𝓂𝑒, 𝐼 𝒹𝒾𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝒹𝒹 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝒷𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝒸𝓇𝒾𝒷𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓁𝑔𝒾𝒶, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝓉𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝐼 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓃𝑒𝒹. 𝑀𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝐼 𝓂𝒶𝒹𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓂𝓎 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈. 𝑀𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒸𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝒶𝒷𝓈𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒. 𝐼 𝓈𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓇𝑒𝓀𝒾𝓃𝒹𝓁𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓋𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓂 𝑔𝓁𝒶𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓎 𝒾𝓈 𝓊𝓃𝓇𝑒𝒸𝑜𝑔𝓃𝒾𝓏𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒. 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃'𝓉 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝒻𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝒷𝓈𝑜𝓁𝓊𝓉𝑒 𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓇𝑜𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓀 𝑜𝒻 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝑒𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒𝒾𝑔𝓃.
𝒪𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓊𝓅𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒, 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓋𝒶𝑔𝓊𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝒸𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓂𝓎 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔. 𝐼 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝓉, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒶 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒, 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓇𝑜𝑜𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑒𝒹. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒻𝓁𝑜𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓎, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝒶 𝓅𝑜𝓉, 𝑜𝒻 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝐻𝑜𝑔𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓈. 𝐼 𝒹𝑜 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓅𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝑜𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝑔𝒽 𝑜𝒻 𝑒𝓍𝓅𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝑜𝓃 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓈. 𝐻𝑒𝒸𝓀, 𝐼 𝒹𝒾𝒹𝓃'𝓉 𝒹𝑜 𝒶𝓈 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝒶𝓈 𝐼 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹'𝓋𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝒶 𝒿𝑜𝒷 𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝐹𝒶𝓇𝓂 𝐻𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒫𝓇𝑜𝒻𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜𝓇 𝒮𝒶𝓊𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝓇𝓂. 𝐼𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒶 𝓁𝑜𝓉 𝓁𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝓊𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝐼 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹'𝓋𝑒 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝒻𝑒𝓇𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝑔𝓁𝒶𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝒾𝓃𝓋𝑜𝓁𝓋𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒲𝒾𝓏𝒶𝓇𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒞𝑜𝓂𝓂𝓊𝓃𝒾𝓉𝓎. 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃'𝓉 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒𝒽𝒾𝓃𝒹, 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹, 𝒾𝓉'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒶 𝒸𝒽𝑜𝒾𝒸𝑒.
𝑀𝓎 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓅𝑜𝓃𝓈𝑒𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓌𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝓊𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒽 (𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽 𝐼 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝓃'𝓉 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝓁, 𝐸𝒾𝓇𝓎𝓀 𝒹𝑜𝑒𝓈 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝑒𝓍𝑒𝓇𝒸𝒾𝓈𝑒 𝒹𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝑒𝓇), 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁, 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑜 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝓅𝓊𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝒸𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓈𝑒𝓈. 𝐼𝒻 𝒾𝓉 𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝓊𝑒 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒, 𝒷𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝑔𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓇. 𝐻𝒶𝓇𝒹𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓅𝓈 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒹𝒾𝒻𝒻𝒾𝒸𝓊𝓁𝓉𝓎, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝓎 𝒶𝒸𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌𝓁𝑒𝒹𝑔𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅𝓈, 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝒾𝒻 𝐼 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑔𝑜𝑒𝓈 𝑜𝓃 𝒷𝑒𝒽𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝓁𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝓇𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈. 𝒫𝓊𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓃 𝑒𝒻𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝒶 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓅 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓂𝓎 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝒹𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝒸𝒽𝑜𝑜𝓁 𝓎𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓈, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝒶𝓎𝒷𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹'𝓋𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝒶 𝒷𝒾𝑔𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑜𝓌, 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝒶𝓉 𝒶 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝓇𝓎 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃.
𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓁𝓎,
𝒜𝓃𝓃𝒾𝑒
Reducio
Dear Lamik,
Surprises like these are good, at least that was my initial thought before reading the entirety your letter. I hope you don't mind my parent's assistance with being able to transcribe my letters back to you and verbalize what you wrote to me. Your secrets are always safe with me.
That being said, I owe you a belated congratulations on graduating as well. It doesn't matter how you got there, just that you did it. My father said a similar thing about high school and college, which is that when you graduate, you get a piece of paper that symbolizes you studied hard for however many years you attended. Beyond that, it is up to you what you make of yourself and your future.
Forgetting is not a choice, you are correct. That's because forgetting is both intentional and unintentional and you can't always control which is which. 7 years cannot simply be reversed, (that being said please don't try to obliviate yourself). Breaking your wand does not relinquish you from the fate laid upon you when you received your entrance letter. If it were that easy to hide outside the watchful eye of the Ministry I would jump on the offer because this World we found ourselves apart of is no easier to traverse now than it was when we were oblivious.
But being oblivious is not bad, rather it is a safe space, like that cave you refer to. My entire life since the third year has been that of a cave. A really deep, dark, and lonely cave that is slowly filling with water, yet your body refuses to float so you can do nothing but flail and ultimately drown. I've had to re-learn how to breathe, how to swim, how to walk, so that I could stand beneath the dazzling sun and feel its warmth once more. I know the process may seem tedious, but it will happen for you too. Even if that means the worst is yet to come before it gets better, it will get better.
I can recount the number of mistakes and things I wish I could go back and change about the 7 years I spent inside the castle. I can count on one hand the number of lifelong friends I've made, but what I can't count is the memories I've experienced and shared, and those are more valuable than a person, a Quidditch game, or a silly little spell.
Though I must confess, I object to your definition of fear as an ailment. Fear is a disease, a serious matter that plagues people when not taken seriously or dealt with quickly. It can fester and build up, or it can go away and show up unexpectedly full force. In my own return home, I did not feel the odd feeling that could only be described as nostalgia, but instead I mourned. Mourned for the memories I made and lost the chance to make with my parents. Mourned the dust that collected in my absence. I sincerely hope you can rekindle what you've lost and am glad to see that not all of your family is unrecognizable. I can't even fathom the absolute terror and dread you speak of when the first face that greeted you one you considered foreign.
On the upside, I have vaguely heard of the Academy you say you are attending. I do not know much about it, but it is a starting place, somewhere to root your feet into the ground and get started. You may not flourish right away, but it is better than being trapped in a pot, of which was Hogwarts. I do believe they put too high of expectations on our grades. Heck, I didn't do as well as I would've liked and I landed a job as a Farm Hand working for Professor Sauber on his farm. It is a lot lower on the rung then I would've preferred but I am glad to still be involved somewhat in the Wizarding Community. I can't just leave it all behind, like you said, it's not a choice.
My responses will be timely should we continue to send letters back and forth (which I wouldn't mind at all, Eiryk does need some exercise during the summer), and hope that they find you well, even when you do head to campus to start classes. If it eases your mind to continue writing to me, be my guest and I will be your listener. Hardships are not overcome without difficulty, but I hope that my acknowledgement and presence helps, even if I do not quite understand everything that goes on behind that complicated brain of yours. Putting in effort to maintain a friendship was the least of my worries during our school years, and maybe it should've been a bigger worry, but I have you now, even at a distance and I will try my hardest to assist where I can.
Yours truly,
Annie
Surprises like these are good, at least that was my initial thought before reading the entirety your letter. I hope you don't mind my parent's assistance with being able to transcribe my letters back to you and verbalize what you wrote to me. Your secrets are always safe with me.
That being said, I owe you a belated congratulations on graduating as well. It doesn't matter how you got there, just that you did it. My father said a similar thing about high school and college, which is that when you graduate, you get a piece of paper that symbolizes you studied hard for however many years you attended. Beyond that, it is up to you what you make of yourself and your future.
Forgetting is not a choice, you are correct. That's because forgetting is both intentional and unintentional and you can't always control which is which. 7 years cannot simply be reversed, (that being said please don't try to obliviate yourself). Breaking your wand does not relinquish you from the fate laid upon you when you received your entrance letter. If it were that easy to hide outside the watchful eye of the Ministry I would jump on the offer because this World we found ourselves apart of is no easier to traverse now than it was when we were oblivious.
But being oblivious is not bad, rather it is a safe space, like that cave you refer to. My entire life since the third year has been that of a cave. A really deep, dark, and lonely cave that is slowly filling with water, yet your body refuses to float so you can do nothing but flail and ultimately drown. I've had to re-learn how to breathe, how to swim, how to walk, so that I could stand beneath the dazzling sun and feel its warmth once more. I know the process may seem tedious, but it will happen for you too. Even if that means the worst is yet to come before it gets better, it will get better.
I can recount the number of mistakes and things I wish I could go back and change about the 7 years I spent inside the castle. I can count on one hand the number of lifelong friends I've made, but what I can't count is the memories I've experienced and shared, and those are more valuable than a person, a Quidditch game, or a silly little spell.
Though I must confess, I object to your definition of fear as an ailment. Fear is a disease, a serious matter that plagues people when not taken seriously or dealt with quickly. It can fester and build up, or it can go away and show up unexpectedly full force. In my own return home, I did not feel the odd feeling that could only be described as nostalgia, but instead I mourned. Mourned for the memories I made and lost the chance to make with my parents. Mourned the dust that collected in my absence. I sincerely hope you can rekindle what you've lost and am glad to see that not all of your family is unrecognizable. I can't even fathom the absolute terror and dread you speak of when the first face that greeted you one you considered foreign.
On the upside, I have vaguely heard of the Academy you say you are attending. I do not know much about it, but it is a starting place, somewhere to root your feet into the ground and get started. You may not flourish right away, but it is better than being trapped in a pot, of which was Hogwarts. I do believe they put too high of expectations on our grades. Heck, I didn't do as well as I would've liked and I landed a job as a Farm Hand working for Professor Sauber on his farm. It is a lot lower on the rung then I would've preferred but I am glad to still be involved somewhat in the Wizarding Community. I can't just leave it all behind, like you said, it's not a choice.
My responses will be timely should we continue to send letters back and forth (which I wouldn't mind at all, Eiryk does need some exercise during the summer), and hope that they find you well, even when you do head to campus to start classes. If it eases your mind to continue writing to me, be my guest and I will be your listener. Hardships are not overcome without difficulty, but I hope that my acknowledgement and presence helps, even if I do not quite understand everything that goes on behind that complicated brain of yours. Putting in effort to maintain a friendship was the least of my worries during our school years, and maybe it should've been a bigger worry, but I have you now, even at a distance and I will try my hardest to assist where I can.
Yours truly,
Annie
Last edited by Annie Morgan on 29 Nov 2025, 22:59, edited 1 time in total.
♡ Life is just a trip, don't let it trip you up - Cash Campbell
The Never Ending Story
@Annie Morgan
Dear Annie,
I happened to be looking out the window when the owl (your owl?) came by. Unfortunately, as soon as I spotted it, I was overcome with a fresh wave of nausea, and so I could not read your letter until later that day. My hope with this reply is that in recording my thoughts, I can not only explain to you the extreme reaction I had to the delivery, but also provide a complete account of what I originally planned to get across in my last letter.
I once read a book whose author argued that the way a person orients themselves in the world has to do in large part with possibilities. I won't pretend to fully understand the complexities of it all, but I will attempt to provide a rudimentary version of it for reasons that will become clear further down. The idea is as follows:
When we look out into the world, we are confronted with a multitude of objects - chairs beds and shelves, trees and bushes and flowers, people and animals and machines, instruments and toys and weapons, and so on and so on and so on. At any given moment, our eyes take in information about a virtually limitless amount of things, many of which blur together and, if not escaping our notice entirely, are relegated to set pieces- styrofoam rocks with hollow interiors, posed in such a way to hide their nonexistent backside. If I did not explain myself well, imagine a pile of random objects and you may have a clearer understanding of what is meant. Though you may find in that pile a book or a feather or a painting, and you may consider each one of these carefully, and with close attention to each of its details, while you do this the rest of the pile, the constituant parts of which you are not presently paying attention to, almost cease to exist. They become, instead of objects in their own right, splotches of color and assortments of shape, making up the background of your imagination. Though the pile itself may still exist, its pieces lose their presence in your attention, and by extension, their individuality in your mind.
As mentioned, of course, each object can exist to us, if only we direct our focus to it. Stepping out of the realm of imagination, take a look around and pick something to which you may choose to pay attention to. Take note of the fact that, as you do this, objects to which you are not paying attention to may as well have ceased to exist. This is not to say that you can not see them (you may, after all, recall their presence after the fact, or divert your attention to them whenever you so please), nor is it to say that, if someone else were to walk into the room, they would be unable to interact with them. It is merely to point out that for you to be immediately aware of something's existence, you must divert a certain level of attention towards it. It is no use trying to "catch an object by surprise" and note its immediate presence without paying it any direct attention. To be aware of something is, in part at least, to pay attention to it.
This having been established, the next step is to understand what it is that paying attention to something (and being immediately aware of it, by extension) involves. First
I realize a few things now- how sore my writing hand is and how low I have run on ink, first and foremost. I know that I have not actually gotten around to explaining anything, and I ask you once again to forgive me for that, but, given these facts, and the time of night that it is, if I am to have any hope at all of responding to the things said in your owl, I better prioritize that. (I do acknowledge the option of simply continuing to write tomorrow, but in truth I am eager to hear back from you as soon as possible, and so want to finish today.)
WAVAD is a school for the study of the arts. Magical arts, that is, though I'm sure you assumed so. I've enrolled in a year-long course, in which I will study the fundamentals of Wand Lore and the enchantment of metals. I used to have some notion of becoming a wandmaker, I admit, though I do not think that that has had much influence on my decision. I have recently become quite uneasy about the idea of working with wands, owing to the fact that a fact that I hope to expand upon in further letters to you. Still, the learning may serve to ease my mind, and will in any case be interesting, I am sure. I also hope to get a chance to test a certain hunch I have in regards to enchantments. Once again, though, I digress.
Though WAVAD has campuses all over the world, I am, as I said in my previous letter, enrolled in London. I know little about the campus or the exact content of my studies - though I have been there once, in order to complete a required interview, I have not yet chosen my classes, and was in any case only able to get a cursory look at the place itself. It looked nice.
I'm glad to hear that you too have found something to occupy your time with. I admit it had never crossed my mind that working for a professor was a possibility, but I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised. Stranger things have happened, as we both know. What does your job involve? And, if you don't mind me asking, what is it that you hope to do eventually, "higher up on the rung"?
I just realized Im sorry about I'm an idiot to have The multiple reminders you included in your letter regarding your blindness have only just fully registered. I realize now that you can not do what I suggested you do during my explanation. I apologize. I wonder if there exists an analogous enough experience in hearing - if, when in a crowded room, conversing with someone, the control you have over who it is that you are paying attention to "drowns out" all other conversations in a way that is similar to the lack of salience that objects of sight can take. I don't know. I haven't thought about it yet.
I want to hear back from you though.
I hope you can still make some sense of what I'm saying, if it makes any sense in the first place. Maybe your memories of sight will be enough.
I am running out of ink.
Lamik
Reducio
Dear Annie,
I happened to be looking out the window when the owl (your owl?) came by. Unfortunately, as soon as I spotted it, I was overcome with a fresh wave of nausea, and so I could not read your letter until later that day. My hope with this reply is that in recording my thoughts, I can not only explain to you the extreme reaction I had to the delivery, but also provide a complete account of what I originally planned to get across in my last letter.
I once read a book whose author argued that the way a person orients themselves in the world has to do in large part with possibilities. I won't pretend to fully understand the complexities of it all, but I will attempt to provide a rudimentary version of it for reasons that will become clear further down. The idea is as follows:
When we look out into the world, we are confronted with a multitude of objects - chairs beds and shelves, trees and bushes and flowers, people and animals and machines, instruments and toys and weapons, and so on and so on and so on. At any given moment, our eyes take in information about a virtually limitless amount of things, many of which blur together and, if not escaping our notice entirely, are relegated to set pieces- styrofoam rocks with hollow interiors, posed in such a way to hide their nonexistent backside. If I did not explain myself well, imagine a pile of random objects and you may have a clearer understanding of what is meant. Though you may find in that pile a book or a feather or a painting, and you may consider each one of these carefully, and with close attention to each of its details, while you do this the rest of the pile, the constituant parts of which you are not presently paying attention to, almost cease to exist. They become, instead of objects in their own right, splotches of color and assortments of shape, making up the background of your imagination. Though the pile itself may still exist, its pieces lose their presence in your attention, and by extension, their individuality in your mind.
As mentioned, of course, each object can exist to us, if only we direct our focus to it. Stepping out of the realm of imagination, take a look around and pick something to which you may choose to pay attention to. Take note of the fact that, as you do this, objects to which you are not paying attention to may as well have ceased to exist. This is not to say that you can not see them (you may, after all, recall their presence after the fact, or divert your attention to them whenever you so please), nor is it to say that, if someone else were to walk into the room, they would be unable to interact with them. It is merely to point out that for you to be immediately aware of something's existence, you must divert a certain level of attention towards it. It is no use trying to "catch an object by surprise" and note its immediate presence without paying it any direct attention. To be aware of something is, in part at least, to pay attention to it.
This having been established, the next step is to understand what it is that paying attention to something (and being immediately aware of it, by extension) involves. First
I realize a few things now- how sore my writing hand is and how low I have run on ink, first and foremost. I know that I have not actually gotten around to explaining anything, and I ask you once again to forgive me for that, but, given these facts, and the time of night that it is, if I am to have any hope at all of responding to the things said in your owl, I better prioritize that. (I do acknowledge the option of simply continuing to write tomorrow, but in truth I am eager to hear back from you as soon as possible, and so want to finish today.)
WAVAD is a school for the study of the arts. Magical arts, that is, though I'm sure you assumed so. I've enrolled in a year-long course, in which I will study the fundamentals of Wand Lore and the enchantment of metals. I used to have some notion of becoming a wandmaker, I admit, though I do not think that that has had much influence on my decision. I have recently become quite uneasy about the idea of working with wands, owing to the fact that a fact that I hope to expand upon in further letters to you. Still, the learning may serve to ease my mind, and will in any case be interesting, I am sure. I also hope to get a chance to test a certain hunch I have in regards to enchantments. Once again, though, I digress.
Though WAVAD has campuses all over the world, I am, as I said in my previous letter, enrolled in London. I know little about the campus or the exact content of my studies - though I have been there once, in order to complete a required interview, I have not yet chosen my classes, and was in any case only able to get a cursory look at the place itself. It looked nice.
I'm glad to hear that you too have found something to occupy your time with. I admit it had never crossed my mind that working for a professor was a possibility, but I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised. Stranger things have happened, as we both know. What does your job involve? And, if you don't mind me asking, what is it that you hope to do eventually, "higher up on the rung"?
I just realized Im sorry about I'm an idiot to have The multiple reminders you included in your letter regarding your blindness have only just fully registered. I realize now that you can not do what I suggested you do during my explanation. I apologize. I wonder if there exists an analogous enough experience in hearing - if, when in a crowded room, conversing with someone, the control you have over who it is that you are paying attention to "drowns out" all other conversations in a way that is similar to the lack of salience that objects of sight can take. I don't know. I haven't thought about it yet.
I want to hear back from you though.
I hope you can still make some sense of what I'm saying, if it makes any sense in the first place. Maybe your memories of sight will be enough.
I am running out of ink.
Lamik
I happened to be looking out the window when the owl (your owl?) came by. Unfortunately, as soon as I spotted it, I was overcome with a fresh wave of nausea, and so I could not read your letter until later that day. My hope with this reply is that in recording my thoughts, I can not only explain to you the extreme reaction I had to the delivery, but also provide a complete account of what I originally planned to get across in my last letter.
I once read a book whose author argued that the way a person orients themselves in the world has to do in large part with possibilities. I won't pretend to fully understand the complexities of it all, but I will attempt to provide a rudimentary version of it for reasons that will become clear further down. The idea is as follows:
When we look out into the world, we are confronted with a multitude of objects - chairs beds and shelves, trees and bushes and flowers, people and animals and machines, instruments and toys and weapons, and so on and so on and so on. At any given moment, our eyes take in information about a virtually limitless amount of things, many of which blur together and, if not escaping our notice entirely, are relegated to set pieces- styrofoam rocks with hollow interiors, posed in such a way to hide their nonexistent backside. If I did not explain myself well, imagine a pile of random objects and you may have a clearer understanding of what is meant. Though you may find in that pile a book or a feather or a painting, and you may consider each one of these carefully, and with close attention to each of its details, while you do this the rest of the pile, the constituant parts of which you are not presently paying attention to, almost cease to exist. They become, instead of objects in their own right, splotches of color and assortments of shape, making up the background of your imagination. Though the pile itself may still exist, its pieces lose their presence in your attention, and by extension, their individuality in your mind.
As mentioned, of course, each object can exist to us, if only we direct our focus to it. Stepping out of the realm of imagination, take a look around and pick something to which you may choose to pay attention to. Take note of the fact that, as you do this, objects to which you are not paying attention to may as well have ceased to exist. This is not to say that you can not see them (you may, after all, recall their presence after the fact, or divert your attention to them whenever you so please), nor is it to say that, if someone else were to walk into the room, they would be unable to interact with them. It is merely to point out that for you to be immediately aware of something's existence, you must divert a certain level of attention towards it. It is no use trying to "catch an object by surprise" and note its immediate presence without paying it any direct attention. To be aware of something is, in part at least, to pay attention to it.
This having been established, the next step is to understand what it is that paying attention to something (and being immediately aware of it, by extension) involves. First
I realize a few things now- how sore my writing hand is and how low I have run on ink, first and foremost. I know that I have not actually gotten around to explaining anything, and I ask you once again to forgive me for that, but, given these facts, and the time of night that it is, if I am to have any hope at all of responding to the things said in your owl, I better prioritize that. (I do acknowledge the option of simply continuing to write tomorrow, but in truth I am eager to hear back from you as soon as possible, and so want to finish today.)
WAVAD is a school for the study of the arts. Magical arts, that is, though I'm sure you assumed so. I've enrolled in a year-long course, in which I will study the fundamentals of Wand Lore and the enchantment of metals. I used to have some notion of becoming a wandmaker, I admit, though I do not think that that has had much influence on my decision. I have recently become quite uneasy about the idea of working with wands, owing to the fact that a fact that I hope to expand upon in further letters to you. Still, the learning may serve to ease my mind, and will in any case be interesting, I am sure. I also hope to get a chance to test a certain hunch I have in regards to enchantments. Once again, though, I digress.
Though WAVAD has campuses all over the world, I am, as I said in my previous letter, enrolled in London. I know little about the campus or the exact content of my studies - though I have been there once, in order to complete a required interview, I have not yet chosen my classes, and was in any case only able to get a cursory look at the place itself. It looked nice.
I'm glad to hear that you too have found something to occupy your time with. I admit it had never crossed my mind that working for a professor was a possibility, but I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised. Stranger things have happened, as we both know. What does your job involve? And, if you don't mind me asking, what is it that you hope to do eventually, "higher up on the rung"?
I just realized Im sorry about I'm an idiot to have The multiple reminders you included in your letter regarding your blindness have only just fully registered. I realize now that you can not do what I suggested you do during my explanation. I apologize. I wonder if there exists an analogous enough experience in hearing - if, when in a crowded room, conversing with someone, the control you have over who it is that you are paying attention to "drowns out" all other conversations in a way that is similar to the lack of salience that objects of sight can take. I don't know. I haven't thought about it yet.
I want to hear back from you though.
I hope you can still make some sense of what I'm saying, if it makes any sense in the first place. Maybe your memories of sight will be enough.
I am running out of ink.
Lamik
Wisdom: 18 - Arcane Power: 15 - Accuracy: 13 - Stamina: 9 - Strength: 4 - Evasion: 22
Binding Mark - Blind Vision - Paragon of Health - Spell Spread - Perfectionist
The Never Ending Story
Annie Morgan - Hogwarts Graduate
Interacting with @Lamik Fillestar
Date - October 28th, 2025
Interacting with @Lamik Fillestar
Date - October 28th, 2025
𝒟𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝐿𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓀,
𝐼 𝒹𝑜 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓉𝒽. 𝐼 𝓈𝓊𝓅𝓅𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓃𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒𝒶 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓋𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝓉𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓊𝓈𝓊𝒶𝓁 𝓈𝓊𝓈𝓅𝒾𝒸𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝒶𝓃 𝒾𝓁𝓁𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈, 𝑒𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝒹𝑜 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇. 𝒥𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝑒𝓈𝒸𝒶𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒻𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝐻𝑜𝑔𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓈 𝒹𝑜𝑒𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒹𝑒𝓉𝑒𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓃𝑜 𝓇𝑒𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒸𝓊𝓈𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈. 𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝒻𝒾𝑔𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓌𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝒶 𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝒹𝑜 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝐼 𝒹𝑜. 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓅𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝒶 𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝓋𝒾𝒶 𝓂𝓎 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝒶𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒷𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒. 𝒯𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓈𝓁𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒 𝐼 𝓈𝓊𝓅𝓅𝑜𝓈𝑒, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝒻 𝒾𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌𝓈 𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅 𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓈𝒾𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝒾𝓉'𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒽 𝒾𝓉.
𝒜𝓁𝒶𝓈.. 𝐼 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝒷𝑒 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝑜𝒾𝓃𝓉 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝓈𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓀 𝒾𝓃 𝓇𝒾𝒹𝒹𝓁𝑒𝓈 𝑀𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐹𝒾𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇. 𝐵𝓊𝓉, 𝐼 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓈𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝓁𝑒𝓍𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒷𝓇𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒾𝓃𝒶𝒷𝒾𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈 𝒶𝓊𝒹𝒾𝒷𝓁𝓎 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒𝓈. 𝐼 𝓉𝑜𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝓊𝑔𝑔𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉. 𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝐼 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝒾𝓉, 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌𝓈. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝑜𝒷𝓈𝑒𝓇𝓋𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓉. 𝑀𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓈𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒶 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑜𝓃 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓈. 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒶𝑔𝓇𝑒𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓃𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓊𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝓊𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒹𝒶𝒾𝓁𝓎 𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝒾𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝓂𝒾𝓉𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓌𝑒 𝒶𝓈 𝒽𝓊𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝓂𝒾𝓉𝓈. 𝒟𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉, 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹𝓈 𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝓈𝓌𝑒𝓇.
𝒜𝓈 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓃𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝒶𝓈 𝒾𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓂, 𝐼 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝒻𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝑒𝒻𝓉 𝓊𝓅 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝑒𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇, 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝑒. 𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝐼 𝑔𝑜𝓉 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝓉𝑜𝒹𝒶𝓎, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓉'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝑜𝑜 𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓇𝒾𝒷𝓁𝓎.. 𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓇𝒾𝒷𝓁𝑒. 𝐸𝓍𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝒶 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓅𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝒾𝓉𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒸𝒾𝒻𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒. 𝐼 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒻𝑒𝓈𝓈, 𝑜𝒷𝒿𝑒𝒸𝓉𝓈 𝑒𝓍𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓈 𝑒𝒶𝓈𝒾𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝑜 𝓅𝒾𝑒𝒸𝑒 𝓉𝑜𝑔𝑒𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝑒𝓍𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝑜𝒸𝒸𝓊𝓇𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒾𝓂𝓅𝒶𝒸𝓉𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝒾𝓉. 𝐸𝓍𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝑒𝓍𝓉𝓇𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒶𝒹𝒹𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒹𝓊𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝓂𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓈𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉. 𝒩𝑜𝓉 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝑜𝓃 𝓈𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓂𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓈𝑒, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝒶𝓁𝓈𝑜 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝒸𝑜𝑔𝓃𝒾𝓏𝑒 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝒾𝓂𝓅𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝒾𝓉. 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓂𝒶𝑔𝒾𝓃𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓎. 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓉𝓊𝓃𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝑒𝓃𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓋𝒾𝓈𝓊𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓏𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝓇 𝒾𝒻 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝒶 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝒸𝓇𝒾𝓅𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃. 𝒢𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝒾𝓈 𝒶 𝓋𝒶𝑔𝓊𝑒 𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓂, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝒾𝓈𝓉.
𝐼 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝒶 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓈𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝓃 𝑜𝒷𝒿𝑒𝒸𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓉, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒸𝑒𝒶𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝑒𝓍𝒾𝓈𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝒾𝓂𝒾𝓁𝒶𝓇 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓎𝒷𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇𝓈 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝓈𝑒𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝒶𝓃 𝑜𝒷𝒿𝑒𝒸𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝒶 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇'𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓎. 𝒪𝓇, 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓃 𝑜𝒷𝒿𝑒𝒸𝓉. 𝐼 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝓎𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝓏𝑜𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓈𝑜 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼'𝓁𝓁 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝓇 𝒶 𝒷𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝒶𝓅. 𝐹𝓊𝓃𝓃𝓎 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒷𝓇𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓎, 𝒽𝓂? 𝐹𝑜𝓇𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝓃 𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓎 𝓋𝒾𝓇𝓉𝓊𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒶𝒸𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓊𝓈𝑒. 𝒜𝓁𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝑔𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓈𝓁𝓎, 𝒶𝓈 𝒾𝓉 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒷𝑒 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓃 𝒶𝒹𝓋𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒶𝑔𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓉𝓉𝓇𝒾𝒷𝓊𝓉𝑒 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝒾𝓉. 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹, 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝑜 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒶𝓅𝑜𝓁𝑜𝑔𝒾𝓏𝑒 𝑜𝓇 𝑜𝓌𝑒 𝓂𝑒 𝒶𝓃 𝑒𝓍𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒾𝓃 𝒹𝓊𝑒 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒, 𝐸𝒾𝓇𝓎𝓀, 𝓂𝓎 𝑜𝓌𝓁 𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓈𝑜 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓈 𝒽𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓁𝑒𝒻𝓉 𝑜𝓊𝓉𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝒹.
𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝓊𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒹𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝐼 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒶𝒹𝓂𝒾𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓃-𝓋𝑒𝓇𝒷𝒶𝓁 𝓂𝒶𝑔𝒾𝒸 𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝐼 𝓈𝑜 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒾𝓃𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉, 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝒷𝑜𝑜𝓀𝓈, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝒻𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓂𝓎 𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒶𝓁 𝒸𝒶𝓅𝒶𝒸𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝑒𝓃𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓅𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇. 𝐼𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒷𝑒 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝓊𝓈𝑒𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽, 𝓃𝑜? 𝒜 𝓈𝓊𝒹𝒹𝑒𝓃 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉, 𝑜𝓇 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝑜𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓈𝒽 𝑜𝒻 𝒶 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹, 𝓁𝑒𝓉'𝓈 𝓉𝓇𝓎 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝒾𝓈.. 𝓊𝓃𝓊𝓈𝓊𝒶𝓁 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒶𝒹𝓂𝒾𝓉, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒾𝓉 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝓃'𝓉 𝒽𝒾𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀 𝒶𝓃𝓎, 𝓎𝑒𝓈? 𝐿𝑜𝓃𝒹𝑜𝓃 𝒹𝑜𝑒𝓈𝓃'𝓉 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒶 𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓇𝒾𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝑒𝒹.
𝒜𝒽 𝓎𝑒𝓈, 𝓂𝓎 𝒿𝑜𝒷. 𝒲𝑒𝓁𝓁, 𝒫𝓇𝑜𝒻𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜𝓇 𝒮𝒶𝓊𝒷𝑒𝓇'𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓊𝓉𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓇𝓉𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝒦𝑒𝓃𝓉, 𝐸𝓃𝑔𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒹. 𝐿𝑜𝓌 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝓈𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓁 𝒻𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓈 𝒶𝒸𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎. 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓃'𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝒹𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽. 𝒮𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓊𝒶𝓁 𝓁𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒶𝓈𝓀𝓈, 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓂𝒶𝑔𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝒷𝓈, 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓈 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝒶 𝒷𝒾𝓉 𝑒𝒶𝓈𝒾𝑒𝓇. 𝐼𝓉 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝑒𝓃𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝓉 𝐻𝑜𝑔𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓈. 𝒩𝑜𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜𝑜 𝒹𝑒𝓂𝒶𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝒶𝓁𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝒫𝓇𝑜𝒻𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜𝓇 𝒮𝒶𝓊𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝓉𝒶𝒹 𝑜𝒻𝒻 𝓅𝓊𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓉 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉. 𝒟𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝓂𝑒 𝐼 𝑔𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒿𝑜𝒷? 𝒜 𝓈𝓁𝒾𝓅 𝑜𝒻 𝓅𝒶𝓅𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒, 𝒹𝒶𝓉𝑒, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝒹𝒹𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒶𝓇𝓇𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝑜! 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓁 𝒶𝓃 𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓉𝑜 𝒟𝓊𝒷𝓁𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝒶 𝐹𝓁𝑜𝑜 𝒩𝑒𝓉𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒. 𝐼'𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝓁𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝓎 𝒶𝓅𝓅𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝑒𝓍𝒶𝓂. 𝒜𝓁𝒶𝓈, 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃'𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝑜𝑜 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒶 𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝓊𝓉𝑒 𝑜𝓅𝓅𝑜𝓇𝓉𝓊𝓃𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝓈𝑜 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝓁𝓊𝒸𝓀𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒸𝓀 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝒹𝒶𝒹'𝓈 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓅 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝑜𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒.
𝐻𝒾𝑔𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓊𝓅 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝓊𝓃𝑔.. 𝒶𝒽𝒽 𝓎𝑒𝓈 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝓎 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝑀𝑒𝒹𝒾𝓌𝒾𝓏𝒶𝓇𝒹, 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒶𝓉 𝒮𝓉. 𝑀𝓊𝓃𝑔𝑜𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓈 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝒻𝒾𝑒𝓁𝒹 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀. 𝐼 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀 𝓂𝓎 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝓊𝓅 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼'𝓂 𝓊𝓃𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓂𝓎 𝓈𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓁𝒾𝓂𝒾𝓉 𝓂𝑒. 𝑀𝓎 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓁𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓉𝑜𝑜, 𝓃𝒶𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓃𝑔, 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓌𝑒𝒾𝓇𝒹 𝓂𝓊𝓉𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝒾𝑔𝓊𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓊𝓉. 𝒮𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓉 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝒾𝒶𝓇 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑜𝓈𝓅𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓁 𝓈𝓊𝓇𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓋𝒾𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃, 𝓈𝑜 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝓃 𝑒𝒶𝓈𝒾𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝒹𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉. 𝐼 𝒶𝒽, 𝒹𝑒𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒾𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝓃'𝓉 𝒹𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝑜𝓁𝑒 𝓂𝑒𝒹𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁 𝒻𝒾𝑒𝓁𝒹 𝓂𝓊𝑔𝑔𝓁𝑒𝓈 𝒹𝑜, 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓁𝓈 𝒶 𝓁𝑜𝓉 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈-𝑜𝓃 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒻𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓎. 𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌𝓈, 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝐼 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝒾𝓉'𝓈 𝒶 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂, 𝒶𝓃 𝑜𝒷𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒾𝒻 𝐼 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈𝓃'𝓉 𝓂𝓎 𝑒𝓃𝒹-𝒶𝓁𝓁-𝒷𝑒-𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝑔𝑜𝒶𝓁. 𝐼'𝓂 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓉 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝑜𝑜 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔.
𝒮𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝒻, 𝐼 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝒸𝒽𝑜𝑜𝓁 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒 𝑜𝓇 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀𝓁𝑜𝒶𝒹 𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓁𝓈, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶 𝓌𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀, 𝐼 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓇𝒶𝑔𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓅 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝒸𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓁𝒾𝓏𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀. 𝑀𝓎 𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓃, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝒹 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝓂𝓎 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈 𝓉𝑜𝑜! 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈, 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝒹 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒾𝓃𝓋𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀, 𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒾𝒹𝒶𝓎, 𝑜𝓇 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝑒𝓈𝒸𝒶𝓅𝑒 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓉. 𝒲𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶 𝓈𝓅𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒹𝓇𝑜𝑜𝓂 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹-𝓇𝑒𝓃𝑜𝓌𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝒸𝒽𝑜𝒸𝑜𝓁𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓅 𝒸𝑜𝑜𝓀𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒶 𝒹𝒶𝓈𝒽 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓎. 𝐼'𝓁𝓁 𝒾𝓃𝒸𝓁𝓊𝒹𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝒶𝒹𝒹𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑜𝓉𝓉𝑜𝓂 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒻𝒾𝑔𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓈𝓅𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃. 𝒥𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒶 𝒹𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑜 𝓈𝓌𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒷𝓎.
𝒰𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃, 𝑜𝓇 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝐼 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑒𝓍𝓉, 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝑒!
𝒜𝓃𝓃𝒾𝑒
Reducio
Dear Lamik,
I do worry about your health. I suppose your nausea may come from other feelings you've hinted at instead of the usual suspicion of an illness, either way do take care of yourself better. Just because you have escaped the confinements of Hogwarts does not mean that you can just deteriorate and have no repercussions. But I figure chewing you at through a letter won't do much good, you know yourself better than I do. I will put in a request via my parents to get ahold of that book when you tell me the name. Translation will take some time I suppose, but if it allows me to see into your thoughts and help in anyway possible it'll be well worth it.
Alas.. I may be missing the point again since you speak in riddles Mister Fillestar. But, I think that is more so the complexities of your brain and the inability to place words audibly sometimes. I too have struggled with that. How I overcame it, who knows. You are very observant to say the least. More so than intended for a person perhaps. I have to agree with you, the things presented in front of us and around us in our daily lives is limitless, but we as humans have our limits. Don't forget that, not everything needs an answer.
As painful as it may seem, I don't like left things being left up to chance either, believe me. But playing with chance is how I got where I am today, and it's not too terribly.. terrible. Existence is a concept in itself that is hard to specifically place. I confess, objects existing is easier to piece together than to consider how our own existence is occurring let alone the impacts of it. Existence is extremely hard for me to address due to the limitations of sight. Not everyone relies on sight as their main sense, but many also don't recognize just how important it is when you loose it. That's where imagination comes into play. I am fortunate enough to be able to visualize most things I have seen before or if I am given a good description. Good is a vague term, but you get the gist.
I think a good comparison to forgetting that an object is present, and then ceasing to exist is similar to how storybook authors sometimes set down an object that was being held in a character's hand and it is never mentioned the rest of the story. Or, they even forget the character is handling an object. I find myself sometimes zoning out so much that I'll forget I have a quill in my hand or a book in my lap. Funny how our brain works that way, hm? Forgiveness is an easy virtue to acquire and use. Although not generously, as it can be taken advantage of just like any other attribute if you let it. That being said, there is no need to apologize or owe me an explanation that you will surely get around to in due time, Eiryk, my owl is patient so long as he is fed and not left outside in the cold.
I am pleased to hear you are continuing your studies in something that interests you. I must admit non-verbal magic is something I so desperately would love to inquire about, having read about it in books, but I fear my mental capacity may not be strong enough to harness that power. It would be quite useful though, no? A sudden resentment, or perhaps that is too harsh of a word, let's try distaste for working with wands is.. unusual I will admit, but nonetheless it shouldn't hinder your work any, yes? London doesn't sound like a terrible place to be stationed.
Ah yes, my job. Well, Professor Sauber's residence is on the outskirts of Kent, England. Low and behold he has several farms actually. I haven't been doing all the much. Some manual labor tasks, working with magical herbs, really anything that makes his life a bit easier. It feels like I am back in the greenhouses again at Hogwarts. Not anything too demanding, although I will say Professor Sauber was a tad off putting at first. Do you know how he told me I got the job? A slip of paper with a time, date, and address to arrive to! I had to travel an hour to Dublin to use a Floo Network there to get to his residence. I'm this close to considering taking my apparition exam. Alas, I can't complain too much it was such a last minute opportunity so I am quite lucky to not be stuck working in my dad's shop the whole time.
Higher up on the rung.. ahh yes well my grandmother was a Mediwizard, helped out at St. Mungos and travelled as well to help with some field work. I eventually want to work my way up there but I'm unsure how my sight will limit me. My grandmother lost her sight too, naturally though when she was young, some sort of weird mutation they never figured out. She at least was familiar with the hospital surroundings before losing her vision, so it was an easier adjustment. I ah, definitely couldn't do the whole medical field muggles do, that entails a lot more hands-on stuff that is scary. But who knows, like I said it's a dream, an obtainable one if I work hard, but it isn't my end-all-be-all goal. I'm content, and it sounds like you are too for the time being.
Speaking of, I don't know what your school course or workload entails, but if you have a winter break, I would encourage you to step away and actually utilize it as a break. My house is always open, and you'd get to meet my parents too! That is, if you'd like. The invitation will stand for any break, holiday, or just escape if you need it. We have a spare bedroom and some world-renowned chocolate chip cookies just a dash away. I'll include my address on the bottom but you're on your own for figuring out transportation. Just let me know a date and time if you do swing by.
Until then, or whenever I hear back from you next, take care!
Annie
I do worry about your health. I suppose your nausea may come from other feelings you've hinted at instead of the usual suspicion of an illness, either way do take care of yourself better. Just because you have escaped the confinements of Hogwarts does not mean that you can just deteriorate and have no repercussions. But I figure chewing you at through a letter won't do much good, you know yourself better than I do. I will put in a request via my parents to get ahold of that book when you tell me the name. Translation will take some time I suppose, but if it allows me to see into your thoughts and help in anyway possible it'll be well worth it.
Alas.. I may be missing the point again since you speak in riddles Mister Fillestar. But, I think that is more so the complexities of your brain and the inability to place words audibly sometimes. I too have struggled with that. How I overcame it, who knows. You are very observant to say the least. More so than intended for a person perhaps. I have to agree with you, the things presented in front of us and around us in our daily lives is limitless, but we as humans have our limits. Don't forget that, not everything needs an answer.
As painful as it may seem, I don't like left things being left up to chance either, believe me. But playing with chance is how I got where I am today, and it's not too terribly.. terrible. Existence is a concept in itself that is hard to specifically place. I confess, objects existing is easier to piece together than to consider how our own existence is occurring let alone the impacts of it. Existence is extremely hard for me to address due to the limitations of sight. Not everyone relies on sight as their main sense, but many also don't recognize just how important it is when you loose it. That's where imagination comes into play. I am fortunate enough to be able to visualize most things I have seen before or if I am given a good description. Good is a vague term, but you get the gist.
I think a good comparison to forgetting that an object is present, and then ceasing to exist is similar to how storybook authors sometimes set down an object that was being held in a character's hand and it is never mentioned the rest of the story. Or, they even forget the character is handling an object. I find myself sometimes zoning out so much that I'll forget I have a quill in my hand or a book in my lap. Funny how our brain works that way, hm? Forgiveness is an easy virtue to acquire and use. Although not generously, as it can be taken advantage of just like any other attribute if you let it. That being said, there is no need to apologize or owe me an explanation that you will surely get around to in due time, Eiryk, my owl is patient so long as he is fed and not left outside in the cold.
I am pleased to hear you are continuing your studies in something that interests you. I must admit non-verbal magic is something I so desperately would love to inquire about, having read about it in books, but I fear my mental capacity may not be strong enough to harness that power. It would be quite useful though, no? A sudden resentment, or perhaps that is too harsh of a word, let's try distaste for working with wands is.. unusual I will admit, but nonetheless it shouldn't hinder your work any, yes? London doesn't sound like a terrible place to be stationed.
Ah yes, my job. Well, Professor Sauber's residence is on the outskirts of Kent, England. Low and behold he has several farms actually. I haven't been doing all the much. Some manual labor tasks, working with magical herbs, really anything that makes his life a bit easier. It feels like I am back in the greenhouses again at Hogwarts. Not anything too demanding, although I will say Professor Sauber was a tad off putting at first. Do you know how he told me I got the job? A slip of paper with a time, date, and address to arrive to! I had to travel an hour to Dublin to use a Floo Network there to get to his residence. I'm this close to considering taking my apparition exam. Alas, I can't complain too much it was such a last minute opportunity so I am quite lucky to not be stuck working in my dad's shop the whole time.
Higher up on the rung.. ahh yes well my grandmother was a Mediwizard, helped out at St. Mungos and travelled as well to help with some field work. I eventually want to work my way up there but I'm unsure how my sight will limit me. My grandmother lost her sight too, naturally though when she was young, some sort of weird mutation they never figured out. She at least was familiar with the hospital surroundings before losing her vision, so it was an easier adjustment. I ah, definitely couldn't do the whole medical field muggles do, that entails a lot more hands-on stuff that is scary. But who knows, like I said it's a dream, an obtainable one if I work hard, but it isn't my end-all-be-all goal. I'm content, and it sounds like you are too for the time being.
Speaking of, I don't know what your school course or workload entails, but if you have a winter break, I would encourage you to step away and actually utilize it as a break. My house is always open, and you'd get to meet my parents too! That is, if you'd like. The invitation will stand for any break, holiday, or just escape if you need it. We have a spare bedroom and some world-renowned chocolate chip cookies just a dash away. I'll include my address on the bottom but you're on your own for figuring out transportation. Just let me know a date and time if you do swing by.
Until then, or whenever I hear back from you next, take care!
Annie
♡ Life is just a trip, don't let it trip you up - Cash Campbell
The Never Ending Story
November 5th
Two items arrived in the envelope. The first was a letter, significantly shorter than those that had come before it:
The second item was a clipping taken from the Daily Prophet. On the margins, in pencil, were written the words "this is what I mean".Dear Annie,
The book is named "Experiences of Depression: A Study in Phenomenology" by Mathew Ratcliffe, a muggle. It's quite the long read, and not an easy one, so I might mention that chapter two, titled "Experiencing the Possible", is what inspired my epiphany.
As for your suggestion, I think it's wise. My winter break starts in late November. I'll send you more specific details as soon as they become known to me. I'll see you then. It'll give us a chance to talk without this intermediary.
With love,
Lamik
Reducio
Dear Annie,
The book is named "Experiences of Depression: A Study in Phenomenology" by Mathew Ratcliffe, a muggle. It's quite the long read, and not an easy one, so I might mention that chapter two, titled "Experiencing the Possible", is what inspired my epiphany.
As for your suggestion, I think it's wise. My winter break starts in late November. I'll send you more specific details as soon as they become known to me. I'll see you then. It'll give us a chance to talk without this intermediary.
The book is named "Experiences of Depression: A Study in Phenomenology" by Mathew Ratcliffe, a muggle. It's quite the long read, and not an easy one, so I might mention that chapter two, titled "Experiencing the Possible", is what inspired my epiphany.
As for your suggestion, I think it's wise. My winter break starts in late November. I'll send you more specific details as soon as they become known to me. I'll see you then. It'll give us a chance to talk without this intermediary.
@Annie Morgan
Wisdom: 18 - Arcane Power: 15 - Accuracy: 13 - Stamina: 9 - Strength: 4 - Evasion: 22
Binding Mark - Blind Vision - Paragon of Health - Spell Spread - Perfectionist