Hey everybody. So, my name's Rogue. And maybe that sounds weird to you but somebody told me there are some versions of my friends around. I'm on the 22nd floor for the duration, just so you know.
So I was fixing to read something when this Tesseract pulled me through to this new New York and maybe it's got some relevance? The words sure are pretty, and it's kind of funny to think of Ithaca full of moths because Penelope was faithful:
You would be another Penelope: yet, they say, all the yarn she spun in Ulysses' absence did but fill Ithaca full of moths.
Who's they? I'm going to spend my time thinking about that, at least until this headache wears off, then maybe it'll be morning and I can get a little sunshine.