It was strange being in the deep desert today without my dead muse. Where could she have been? I suspect it’s because I didn’t go alone. In fact, I know that’s the cause. I did see signs of her presence in the wind, and across the darkened landscape, and in moments of subtle extrospection. Though to hear her cold words rise within my mind I must remember to first deny myself the warmth of any companion, and to face fully and alone the fact of all mortal dissolution and oblivion. Only then will the muse speak to me her mute inspiration.