It’s funny, I recall last I wrote you I stood at a crossroads. There was a path to the left and one to the right. I had to choose which to follow, and surely I must have chosen for I’m no longer there. But I don’t recall which path I took. I’m now hopelessly lost. I don’t know there’s any value in my continued correspondence with you as it must be impossible these words will ever reach you, and more impossible still you could follow my path if I can’t even recall how I came to be here. But, ever the documentarian, I continue putting down my thoughts on the wonders I’ve been fortunate to discover. And I continue capturing photographic evidence that what I write is true.
I have no grasp how long I travelled after passing by the crossroads. It could have been weeks ago. Or perhaps earlier this morning. Time has no meaning in this realm. Nor does direction, as I can hardly tell up from down, much less north from south. And modern concepts like gravity? Hah! Water might just as easily be found floating before you as resting on the ground below your feet. I discovered this when I stumbled upon what must be The Well of Segais. Never had I expected to see such a sight, one with such history if only in myth. But this journey has proven there may be more to myth than we know.
Now that I’ve found it, what shall I do? Shall I search for the nuts from the nine hazelnut trees? Or dare I approach the waters? Dare I break the surface reaching for the salmon that must surely swim within? Oh, such knowledge I might possess. Would I be allowed this? Or would I share a fate similar to that of Boann? I doubt my mortal mind was made for such as could be found here. I suspect I will simply document, and continue my journey, writing you these missives, hoping you may one day read them and know the truth of their words.
I must say farewell for now. I hear something on the wind through the trees. It may not be safe for me here. I must move on. I will write again when and if I’m able. Stay strong and guard these letters well!
