My boat is slowly floating down a fog-covered river lit from underneath by somehow menacingly glowing outlandish fish as I’m carried off to demise, like a reverse Moses. A fragrant taste of lavender lingers in my mouth since I woke up this afternoon and made me think of you. I doubt the wooden carcass of my boat will ever be found, yet I leave you this, scrawled in the eerie half-light of this not yet dawned day, whilst I wait for those two stone giants to loom on the horizon. The wardens that mark the beginning of the malodorous descent and hence the finality of my decision to return to this subterranean anti-sanctum. I am truly scared.