I have a fair reason to believe that the stacks around me will not fall.
I have placed long rows, as far as your eyes can see.
I stepped into the Escher long ago. Tunnels, I cannot, will not, do not wish.
Finding my way out, not an option. Fleet Foxes on the dial.
This must be reasonable, pages slide into view. And words.
People are strange. and walking, right outside of the window.
As if nothing is even happening, and here I am in this cataclysm.
I am writing you this letter to prove that I am alive. And to remind myself to breathe. And to see again.