I’ve made myself.. and my daughter, quite comfortable in our new home, the home of the Scribe. He tends to be a dark man with ghosts of his own, a man who builds small animals out of folded pieces of rence for a little girl who now carefully maintains her very own origami ranch. My cooking skills are improving and I don’t think anyone has gotten sick from my lack of culinary experience, which forces me into more experimentation.
I feel so lost, as if Charm and I are floating through each day, continuously waiting for something. I feel as if I should know the answers to the questions of our lives, even before they are asked. At times I am certain I can hear the cards laughing at me, taunting me with information they hold just beyond my reach.
Perhaps I am going slowly insane. It would account for much.
