Persey's Diary

Sunday, 18 November
I find the Scottish Highlands quite nice. I do not exactly have a place to stay, but some locals let me stay in their home. It is such a quaint little village--very picturesque. But even in this pastoral paradise, I feel as if I cannot escape the inevitability of Death. I never can. The chill of the wind, despite its refreshing nature, seems almost ominous. Although, more likely than not, it is just simple paranoia.