Time seems to be playing tricks on me. But how can she? She isn’t real. She is a dream.
She is a pilgrim in the void. Pathless. More dissolved and featureless than a forgotten, golden idea.
And here I am. A man of the people. Trying relate to you her words.
Pilgrim. Raise the flag on the other shore. Ride the storm for us.
Or we shall be lost.