nobody down here

We may choose to question, to doubt, the evidence of our senses; but we cannot easily deny them. We interact with the world through our bodies; and so when we find them changed, might not our perception of the world change? Or am I me in some fashion that defies the flesh entirely. I'm not touching the battle of the sexes nonsense with a ten-foot pole, because that kind of conversation never ends well for the males involved... But I'll admit it was interesting to look through different eyes. Seeing the same world from another angle. I don't know that I learned anything, except that I don't like being short, which I really could have guessed.

Still, food for thought. If it's in essence an accident that I am the man I see in the mirror every day, what does that say about the person I believe myself to be? If I'd been born in the body I found myself in the other day (admittedly not without its advantages,) would I be where I am, who I am? Or would my life have followed some other path, impossible to imagine or predict?

I don't think we're meant to learn anything from these curses-- certainly theories abound to explain them, though whether any do, who knows-- but that doesn't mean we can't.

Anyway. In other matters-- has anyone heard from Donna Noble recently? She's been uncharacteristically quiet for a couple of days...

( Police Filter // Viewable to those investigating the stonings )

I'm glad I got away without having to enumerate my near escapes; I wouldn't have had time to listen to the stories the City wanted told.
I thought, once, that I remembered dying, though often I can't tell what I've seen from what I've dreamed. November twenty-sixth. Someone told me that souls mate eternal; that though we don't recall, in some inscrutable way we stay side by side through the years, the lives, the deaths. Born sisters once, mother and child a second time, lovers third; and yet some lives we meet only in passing, lonely and disconnected, seeing for an instant unknown faces that strike a chord deep within us, though we know not why.
We aren't the damned, or the saved, who have fallen down this rabbit hole. Perhaps it's but a dream from which we'll wake, some shared unconscious memory lying at the root of all realities. Perhaps there's no rhyme or reason behind it; a land where dead men walk with figments of dead men's imaginations, where dreams and nightmares mingle with reality.
Is this merely the logical end of a long journey, a walk through darkness begun with eyes open wide in naive fascination? A restless search for a truth I couldn't comprehend, only longed for with a child's stubbornness? Here so many truths lay bare, so many are handed to me, unsuspected-- and questions raised for which there are no answers in sight, questions I could not have asked had I not been pulled off my path.

[ooc: The count for investigators I'm working with is Harry Dresden, Molly Carpenter, Carlos Ramirez, Karrin Murphy, and Vincent Valentine, as lifted from Harry's filters, but if your char has been involved with the investigation feel free to assume they're on it too? ^^;]