Do you want to find it? The place Snitter said the flies had grown huge, where Woundwort began, the grind and snarl and sparks
of the iron road? Can your mind understand a double rainbow, a dark lord, the start of everything?
I don't know. The mask of a jackal was never point, nor the sun in eclipse, it was ever and always about whether or not you
and I could exist in the same place. Everyone we've ever known was looking for something. Yet as for us...
Think it's different? It's not. Peace is just another war. 
Such a sad and cynical conclusion.
Find fault in it? Do tell.
No. This is as far as we can go.