Ryomael:

You must excuse me - as fascinating as my life might be (and indeed it is...or was...and I only know that from the stories of other inmates...but are they stories? It is impossible for me to know, even at this stage...) Good god! As you can see, I have already lost my mind. Truly, I had no doubt the moment I woke up in this god-forsaken place.

Alas, where was I? Oh yes...you must excuse me, as I have no real details of my life to share with you at the moment. All I have is this strange journal - given to me by Wassel, the cell-crawler (hee hee...I came up with that name myself, truly. I mean, his name IS Wassel, but I added the 'cell-crawler' bit. Indeed, he's the only living soul I see walking admidst the rows upon rows, columns upon columns of cells in this place, [though 'walking' really isn't an appropriate word for his mode of locomotion]. And I am going out of a very unstable limb by assuming he's living. Gods, he certainly doesn't smell it!)

Indeed, I know very little but what is put before me - this journal...and in this journal, I must write whatever I discover, for I fear that if I don't, I may awaken in yet a stranger place, just as lost, if not more so, than I am right now...