The sun is nearing the horizon now, over half the day gone since I tried to put things down on paper, tried to stir some memory. It is only now, as the sun sets, that I feel... something...
The glow reminds me of...
...
No matter. I will keep writing until I remember. I don't even know where this book came from. It was near me when I found myself on the beach, with a charcoal pencil. I know what these things are, so obviously not all is lost. Not yet.
I scouted around this morning. The water on the beach drops off sharply about twenty yards out. It starts as crystal clear, but quickly turns to deep blue, and then almost inky black. There is something about that water, something ominous. There are no fish either... I daren't even taste the water.
I felt uneasy and left the beach. There is a lone hill west, with flat grasslands all around. In the distance are craggy mountains, west, north, and south, like a wall. Closing in...
But I hope to find a passing ship for rescue, so I can't stray far from that water... that strange water.
Atop the hill is a stone, almost like an altar, amidst a lone grove of trees. This is where I now sit, watching the setting sun through the swaying branches.
I have no food, and am parched, but feel strangely at peace here. I can almost hear music in the distance, like a slow, serene waltz...
... a handshake... why do I remember a handshake?
I will think of these things no more tonight. I need to rest, to let my mind and body cleanse and heal.
