
When the walls start filling up with writing, that's when it's dangerous. I did the same, in that very room.
Old human, this one hears your cane at night, you know.
Entry to the cell requires authorization.
The better a child listens, the sooner they break.

When the walls start filling up with writing, that's when it's dangerous. I did the same, in that very room.
Thirty years of transcribing, and the one voice I never managed to hear was the Calamity Beast's. That single line is all that's left.

That writing on the wall isn't mine. Mine was plastered over long ago.
My hand froze and I dropped the brush. It feels like only yesterday this hand transcribed three hundred lines a day.
Every winter, that old monster comes to me in dreams. The one who died over the one line I couldn't protect.

The board they use now is twice the size of the one I used. It didn't grow because there's more to write. It grew because there's more that must be written.
The first monster word I ever understood was 'move'. If I hadn't moved that day, none of this writing would exist.
I went to market for winter radishes, but my feet turned toward the yard first. I always thought the feet were the first to age.