From my bioluminescent cavern, I project my mind outwards — to anywhere the sun might shine. Here, surrounded by miles of solid rock and crystal, no outside light ever visits — at least it hasn't, in the decade of my slow confinement. A sharpened bit of stray amethyst serves as my timekeeper: to mark dim numerals upon the slick wall to my right. Even though the humidity effaces the marks, I condense them as I'm able into more concrete figures.

Truth be told, it is likely an exercise in futility, these records. Without the passage of the sun to guide me, I can only rely on the regularity of my circadian rhythms to guide me. Bereft of a visible luminary, I suspect that the thin wafers which appear daily through a small slot in a niche in the cavern upon a silver platter (which I consented to eat when my starvation had become severe enough) contain enough of the sun's memory to keep my pattern of sleeping somewhat regular.

Still, there is some strange comfort in these amethyst-scratched numerals, deprived as I am of ordinary diversions in this place, and even a noticeable amusement at arbitrary correspondences, such as 3333, which I passed nearly a year ago. At times, it surprises me that I have the sufficient motivation to keep up such a dubiously meaningful habit... yet such is the tenacity of actions repeated over long stretches.

I suspect that the air of this place is not normal. I feel no urge to drink, nor do I produce wastes of any kind: though I consume daily the tasteless, thin wafers that appear as aforementioned. Much of the time I am in a sort of blank reverie, a state outside ordinary concepts of positive or negative emotion or mentation. It is clear from combing through what is left of my memories that these are likely to be heavily tampered with — containing, as they do, enormous gulfs between them — and even blatant contradictions.

My time is spent alternately between a very few activities: either exploring what I have come to regard with ambivalence as my subterranean cell/home (as comfortable as I have become with it, I cannot but acknowledge the overwhelming possibility I was placed here against my will), attempting to make sense of my remaining memories, and waiting for one of the somewhat rare visions I receive in slumber that seem to be preparing me for a future role of some sort.

Until then, I dwell in this cave of time and crystal waiting for worlds to collide.