Note: this is 1) a travel-log written after the fact (though a mental as opposed to a physical one), and 2) a planning exercise for a novel. So entries will be short and disjoint, but more or less chronological and telling an overarching story. 500 words is the maximum I've set for myself, but I'm aiming more for the 100-300 word range.

From a Travel to a Stone


I followed my father's footsteps in many things, and yet I did not. My feet did not quite fit. They were not meant to fit. But he travelled to this valley and, for a time, did not return.

I, perhaps, will never return. And I cannot leave a written log behind like he. I cannot write, and there is nothing but stone to write upon. Stones are the marks of graves, not the living tales – but perhaps I no longer live, as stone. I only remember this tale of mine I crafted: what I learnt of its origins, and this which may be the end.

I can form thoughts into such words. There is little else to do when even time is bound. More complex thoughts are meaningless.