Again and again I delve into the soul of a dead titan, searching for that elusive dreamcity I once called home. Days and nights crawl by, swifter than any bird yet never-ending as infinity. The chunk of titan-self grows small. I dread lest some other seeker find my dreamcity first and profane it with their presence. More titan-self is needed.
SEVENTY-FOURTH FAROE
Every journey to that deiphagist woman’s shop fills me with revulsion. In each passerby’s visage I see malignant marks of deiphagy. These base creatures dine on the great luminous being whose memories I have lived. Unknowing, unheeding, they desecrate a being more glorious than the sun. Knaves. After I find my dreamcity, I will preserve the life of this titan. I will write down each event, each miracle, each great feat. It will be a new epic. A new Gilgamesh, a new Iliad.
