I know some of the stories here. I've heard before, but I haven't. And you can talk from faraway on this. It carries through electricity. Like magic.
It makes noises like clicking when you push letters. I like that.
Some of the people here walked out of stories into a world that's more real to people here, and less to them. I wish Varric was here. Maybe he could meet his stories and see them the way he does in his head.
What is ice cream? A woman with her heart in pieces told me I should have some when I said he still cared.
Hello people whose faces I know. And people whose faces I don't know. The faces don't matter so much, but it's nice to see the same ones sometimes.