Where We Belong Note · وثائق المهام

To think it might be folly, which I am guilty of. I've been trying for centuries, with one idea after another, one decade after the next. All in vain. All leading nowhere.

I used to think it was a place: somewhere beyond the Earth, surrounding us like a veil. But that certainty is dead. It might be a state of mind, a state of soul, an existence beyond my comprehension.

Yet I can't stop trying to comprehend it, because it’s always here. Seeping through, echoing in my mind, dragging itself through my nightmares, demanding to be seen, acknowledged, and known.

It’s a presence. It’s alive and dead at once, animate and inanimate. Pulling me in and forbidding entry. Promising solutions and mocking me for believing its words.

I should give up, but I cannot. It’s my hope without end, and my end without hope.