MCP10 The color of her eyes pin me to the wall, and I realize I’ve actually collided with it. Eyes, wall, or color, I can’t tell, I just know I’ve been hit.

But she’s the same. Her face doesn’t shift around. Maybe the bathroom is a safe, non-shape-changing-woman zone? It IS ornate, I mean there are rooms within rooms here, I could stay for a while. Forget Belka and war and Skelthan and the Maritharp massacre. The trip has convinced me I can live in a bathroom with a young woman. I now regard the trip as a separate thing, an entity of itself that I am bound to, like a passenger in a car driving itself. But the fact that it clawed its way to reality does not make it correct, I know that.