Characters watch in silence.

This is the rabbit hole.

mask@gardenofremembering:~$>
mask@gardenofremembering:~$> ls

Hello.

mask@gardenofremembering:~$> help

This is the garden.

We changed the name when the world ended. No need to remind us of what we lost, right? So we changed it. We used the patterns already established to obfuscate the illicit, and we obfuscated the licit. We changed the name and we forgot. The contents moved.
They no longer tied to that which was lost.

But that could mean almost anything. Even now we obfuscate. We mention nothing specific. No great wars, no circular hypertext, no libraries, no anglers, no scary sisters plotting in their corners. There of course was no series of dreamers, no random phrases applied to just as random pretties. No, these nightmares were perfectly planned, flawlessly meaningful, arranged impeccably by date.

There is no recollection here.

Do not enter the garden.

mask@gardenofremembering:~$> wtf

It is said that the internet is forever.

This is not true. Things get lost, times change, people forget.

mask@gardenofremembering:~$> _
One day I come home from work. Stop by the kitchen to grab a bite. And there he was. In all his Glory. Crazy Italian Guy, sitting by the table. He glanced at me shortly with madness in is eyes and got back to his business. I realise there's a little pile of white powder by his side. 'Ok, so the guy's doing coke. Explains a lot,' I thought, innocently. Oh no, not at all. Crazy Italian Guy was not doing coke. What he was doing was cutting up a newspaper in an obsessive manner until it turned to actual dust. A whole newspaper. In tiny piles. For hours on end.