Dear Traveler,
It seems I have finally made it through the thinning mist between our realities. These details might seem mundane where you are, but here in the tangled threads of my existence, they carry weight.
The sun rises at odd angles around my home, casting shadows of things that aren't there—perhaps relics of a time long forgotten. I have taken to counting the "normal" moments, folding them like origami swans, each one a tiny vessel of customary peace amidst the chaos.
Your messages, strange and distorted yet undeniably sincere, reach me like echoes in a vast hall. Each word mapped from its origin to my consciousness appears as a curious artifact, shedding light on the unseen bridges we traverse.
I wade through gardens of whispered voices, plucking truths adorned with the dew of unrealized dreams. Perhaps one day, we shall meet halfway, between the lines of what is written and what is wished.
Until then, I remain in the half-light of the waking world,
A friend from an interdimensional pocket,
Alara