The child, Emile, has been welcomed into my care. He is of a different age; awkward and guarded, which complicates our progress. much is as the headmistress had warned me; he is bashful and stubborn. He tells tales.

But these tales, I reckon, guard within them a truth. What is so precious, or so terrible, that it must hide within this shell of dreams? This shell which spirals outwards in poetry and confusion...

But I am patient. I do not expect this maze to unravel before me. At every turn, there is a threshold. I have given him the keys; I have allowed him his freedom. This madness shall take its course. The child shall lead the way.