In which the night is cold and my mind wanders

I'm trying to write, but it's hard. It's hard to describe this place. I haven't even decided on a title and usually those come to me easily. I mean, I can't title this like my normal stories, because it's not like my normal stories.

I don't know if anyone is even reading this entry. What do you think, unknown person, of the title Down the Labyrinthine Ways? I don't know. On the one hand, it's the first thing I thought of, but does it fit?

It's been getting colder here. Does that mean it's winter? How many days, weeks, months have passed? I feels almost like no time at all.

I haven't seen anymore notes from A. And I don't know what I would make of them if I did.

I am trapped within this city, but it does not feel like a trap. It feels like...well, when you were young, did you ever in your bed, under your covers, and imagine the white sheet was the rolling hills of some fantasy land where you could wander forever? I feels like that. It feels like if the sky was lifted away, I would see the face of myself as a child, messy hair and everything.

I just babbling. I'm putting off writing, because I know it will be difficult. But I can't help that, I just have to dive in and hope for the best.

Wish me luck.

Sam Norton