Trapped in Ink - Grano's Diary
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_I couldn't stand the colors Deacon insisted on dying my clothes, and I only realized how far I had fallen when I burned a hole through the damn thing. Called back from a place… a plane, I didn't expect, by a diety I gave service to, but who wasn't my patron.
Reading a few simpler books refreshed my memory of the language, I clawed my way through a few pages of dogma and threw it across the bed. The second refreshing my memory had was that my only book of dogma was an eleborate joke disguised as belief, or perhaps it was the other way around.
I decided I should find someone to renew the tatoo's on my arms. Perhaps that'd wake me up from this stupor, I could go back, sit down, wear black and gold and be happy with the dark and columns. Perception is a key I suppose, and it opened a door meant to stay closed.
I decided I should send a letter home. Perhaps that'd make me realize that I'm closing the door after the cows have left. Not all of them, but enough to make one consider if farming is really cut out for them. Then of course farmers had such simpler lives and worry about cattle is all they really need to do.
In a few days I must consider this._