It all seems so far away; what if

What is the meaning of life? Mu.

I would like to refer those who do not follow the Quiet Cacophony blog to please see this post; it will serve as a satisfactory update of my activities last night. I can confirm that the contents are true and correct. You may ask questions, but do not expect answers. True ones, anyway.

I encountered nothing of note yesterday; I am simply arranging myself for the events on Sunday. It is thus safe to inform you all that I have spent much time in London recently; yesterday, I began moving west, and nothing of note happened. That I can remember. My notebook, however, says something entirely different.

12:56 -- Unknown. It seems familiar. This is not the fir

It is, thus, worth considering that I do not recall seeing anything on that day and, more to the point, do not remember writing anything in the book. Is this notable? Yes. On all previous occasions, I can remember writing in the notebook. I check it, of course, out of habit anyway -- but this is the first time that I read something that I do not at least vaguely remember writing. That I can recall. It may be worth reviewing my notebooks to find similar occurrences.

It is also worth noting that I simply stopped writing. It is no exaggeration that the above is almost exactly how the writing was represented in my notebook.

I do not know what it is I encountered. I must be vigilant, however; if it were not almost certain suicide, I would take a photograph -- those cannot be tampered with. But no. That is a line which I cannot cross. To use a camera is to throw a Molotov cocktail into the future. It would be unpardonable. Instead, I must think, and attempt to recall lost time on Wednesday.

... my train is here. I may post when I reach my destination, but it is unlikely.