TWELFTH DOGNACHT
Days pass, then weeks. I cloister myself in the garret lodging, emerging only to eat or replenish the supply of titan-self. Though magnificent vistas and glorious sights reveal themselves unto me, none are my own dreamcity of youth.
But as time slips past, I find I no longer care whether I rediscover my childhood haunt. Rather, it seems paramount that the dead titan’s memory be recorded. I delve deeper into the titan-self, purchasing not just from the first deiphagist woman, but from many vendors in back alleys and side streets. The power of a titan sears my mind day and night. And yet. And yet, when I put pen to paper in order that the titan might be revered, all words fail. The experience of titanhood cannot be translated into mere mortal words.
FORTY-SEVENTH TOTEMPHATHT
My money runs low. Already I forgo meals for more titan-self. Try as I might, no words flow. At the same time, the memory of my dreamcity has faded until only the vaguest impression of that crystalline inverted palace remain.
