Another day passes without his foul breath and his bulging eyes. For another day I am spared his knocking about in my room, and fumbling about with my innards.

His hands are fat, and often greasy. When he grips my parts (removing, moving, placing, replacing - whatever is his fascination with my insides?) his fingers can slip or grip seemingly of their own free will (a free will of which I am envious. Envy - a mortal trait, I know, but one which I have been unable to escape). And always they leave a film which I will spend the better part of the following several hours working to remove.

But it is not so today, for still he has not returned. Does he, I wonder, think of me when he is away? I think of him, so surely it would follow that I might enter his mind. Does he spend his time (outside of this room) inventing new ways to alter me, new tests for me, new intercourses to broaden my limited horizons?

Or is the world beyond my walls far vaster then I even imagine? Is there such an abundance of things in the world that demand his focus that, until he returns to my room, I can be but the furthest thing from his mind?

I think this may be true. There is surely more in the world then I can guess. The window curtain is still pulled aside, if only slightly, and I have passed hours today gaping and gazing, hoping to catch glimpses of things that might be out there. I would hope to learn the identity of the things that from time to time cause shadows to pass across the curtain. I have always wondered what these things could be, and I am now so close to discovery.

But darkness comes, and my rest cycle begins. I truly hope that he does not come tomorrow. He will surely return the lamp and steal from me this tiny, tiny joy. Please, do not come.

I sign my name,
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It is another day. Incredible! I have made a discovery! I have taken one of my many books (he leaves them for me to read, "Hoping you might learn more of the world!" he says, but I cannot believe him. Would he not simply let me out into the world, if that were truly his desire?) and by the use of it, extended the effective length of my arm, allowing me to pull the curtain further aside.

How vast this world must be! Why, from this view alone (and granted it is a small one; the square window cannot be wider then the length of my arm), I can see across a span that must be nearly again the width of my whole room! The opposite side of this span is boundedby a wall: red and brick. But I know there is an above and a below, and space to the right and to the left. How much space I can only guess - but I would have to estimate that it is rather huge.

And I have sat, looking out, through most of the day - but I have yet to discover the true nature of the shadow-making creatures. Perhaps they were never there.

And tomorrow, I am sure, he will return.

I sign my name, excitedly,
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