The following essay was translated from a Trans-Ecological Interpretation to English, some specifics or nuances understood by Xunkao may be lost.

Today I found out about a Hand-Thinker whose words touched my little community. His name was Howard Phillips Lovecraft.

I am not sure what he would do if he saw the world as it is now. The man was a walking contradiction.

But I cannot help feel an echo as if I move through the routine tunnels when I heard his tales.

Naturally some of my colleagues were bored, fewer casuals and onlookers were offended, but me…

I remembered where I felt these sensations.

There was once an eccentric who encoded scrolls with different papers to keep the feel and transitions of stories more prominent.

It took some research to remember her name: Mereth Khaiv. Even more to find which one considering there were many with this title. Thankfully Saffron Archive kept what I was looking for. Albeit, not the originals.

Much like the Hand-Thinker, the Khaiv was an outsider. Reputed as a fear-monger and was more isolated as a result. Partly because of what and how she wrote, but also because she was thought to be cursed.

Some will think she was more like this Mad…Arab…from Lovecraft. Coincidence, I hope.