Within her journals (to which I am now adding my own memories, altering that which displeases me, mending her words to give the illusion that the muscles of her heart were knotted to mine), a nest of her curiosities and dreams, I found folded in the mud-dyed pages recipes for all nature of glittering delights dusted in sedative powders to insure the soundest of sleep (endless days I spent with my head pressed between those pages floating along dreams since removed from me by the Rv. Emersohn), formalist diagrams for hypnosis generators, possessive fungal growths tucked around the edges, seemingly repetitive patterns each holding the shape of parseable information which I could not find entry into, translations of dictated fragments by Uriel and Guardian and Terminus and the broadcasts of Shabriri “Strawberry Shortwave” Solehn, an inventory of items hidden inside the Kara-Bakos Hidden And Traveling Museum, lunar calendars for other moons, sketches of giant magnets hidden within the earth, a list of cross-tolerance warnings for the Travel Medicine, ruminations on the Vajrayana, and endless circle-spirals, never finding center.

the exit is hidden within the exit