156th Day (July 18, Cycle 130)
Panic! Stark, unreasoning panic! Today—what a mockery of a word in this timeless cave!—I scrape the mildew from a magazine and read that bat urine and saliva can transmit rabies through the air. I am in no such danger from the long-vanished bats, but I don't know that at the time. And for the eternity I have spent in Midnight Cave, I've been absorbing the foul ash of their droppings with every breath.
In my journal I scrawl this disorganized—but true—sentence:
"When you find yourself alone, isolated in a world totally without time, face-to-face with yourself, all the masks that you hide behind—those to preserve your own illusions, those that project them before others—finally fall, sometimes brutally."
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