I’ve recently figured out how to make paper from the reeds growing down by the lagoon, so I’ve decided to write a record of my experiences in this strange world. I know not why I feel compelled to do this when I have far more pressing and practical concerns. Perhaps I just need a project to keep myself sane, or, failing that, a means of gauging the rate at which I am losing my sanity. Or perhaps one day someone else will stumble upon this journal and find some clue that I missed, some answer to how and why and what this place is.