‘As for her tenants, that is, man and beasts, The beasts we daily see massacred dy, As thralls and vassals unto mens beheasts: And men themselves doe change continually, From youth to eld, from wealth to poverty, From good to bad, from bad to worst of all: Ne doe their bodies only flit and fly; But eeke their minds (which they immortall call) Still change and vary thoughts, as new occasions fall.
I dreamt of a thing called the WENNANWERE. A machine that remembers. A machine that can hone the souls of many different people into a fine glass, and form a mirror of dark fluid.
I dreamt of this machine on a rainy night when the moon was full, but only partially visible through the clouds. The light shone through and the sky looked like it was full of murky water.
When I dreamt of this thing, this machine, I felt myself starting to slip in ways that were familiar, but in ways that I could only just then comprehend.
I realized that I was destined to make the same mistakes over and over.
As a record of history, I keep the collected ideas, paths, and memories stored in the thing's many drawers. I keep it here now, as a way to remind people of the mistakes that get made over and over and over again.
And of course, to remind others of the people who make them.