VALLEY OF YATHLEOver windswept vermilion dunes I search in hope of obtaining one final glimpse of Aerscyllia, but she appears not in all my most recent journeys. Yet still I continue to advance across the limitless span of desert, my gait strong and sure as I walk across sand strewn with porphyritic rocks of glittering opals, rubies and chrysolite. Rivulets of sand undulate in the wind, as if beckoning me forward with their sinuous motion. Soon my steps will take me to the shining mirror that I must enter in order to return to my own world, to the dull façade of fading colors, of lifeless living and the mundane accretion of sad objects in a sad time.
