I'm sick, my friend, with an illness serious and grave that I cannot explain. It seems no one can save me from certain convulsions of the modern age. It's like some thirst for light, a lantern to a**uage and guide me toward some unknown cure for my ills so I might soon improve, because no hospitals,
no doctors have a clue about my lethargy, my spleen, my anxiety. What could it be, this madness that envelops me? My mind solves nothing, yet it's thinking constantly about the medicine I really need, my friend, so that I can catch a train to an arcane end, healthy...