Tell whoever put you up to this.
That if I am to flower into something other than myself,
I would rather rot into nothingness as I am.

I don't know if I'm good or evil. Stupid words, anyway... But I'm trying to
be gentle to others and hard on myself. I know how to sympathize and not
judge. I try to love whoever I touch. That's the only answer I have.
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Our words are erased, Khatangher. We turn our father's flute into sticks.
We take old words, big words, and apply them to small things. But the connection to the source is still there. The Lines remember.
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It is a story too long to be told short.

You build out a map of facts, and conclusions, then snap a picture of them.
Keeping in mind that facts, too, are processes; they change over time.
Then you tease out connections from one the other...
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The Town needs to move forward, but it doesn't insist. Facing the future is the way of love. Facing the past is the way of love.

But the two are incompatible, and it broke my heart.
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I'm sorry. Forget it.

It's just that sometimes you feel, all too poignantly, that your life is over.
You're not even thirty, but you're done. Not dead, but burnt through... and
there's nothing ahead for you.
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You understood it. You bound its severed parts together. Drawing new
connections between things that seemed incompatible - that is the essence
of understanding. To understand is to become someone else.

What seemed like death to the former you is just a crack in the earth for the new you. It's still rather wide, but you can get across.
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I like it. It's the story of strong people in a tough situation. A story of
responsibility, the will to cleanse your doubt, the power to go on despite
the exhaustion and mistakes, the wrongness and incomprehensibility. It's
hard, but meaningful.

And I am happy to be here
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Voici les Lignes qui retracent mon évolution à travers l'histoire de Pathologic 2.

J'ai changé, je le sais, et je continuerai de changer. Mais maintenant j'ai
un peu moins peur d'avancer, parce que la vie est tellement plus riche,
étrange et éparpillée que je pouvais me l'imaginer. Un jour je serai vieille,
un jour je ne serai plus là. Je ne mentirai pas en disant que ça me va, mais,
au moins, j'ai un peu moins peur. C'est déjà un beau cadeau. Merci.
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Pour conclure, parce que dans mon âme, celle que j'étais a encore sa place...

Well... let's live here anyway? Please? I've set it all up for us, see? It's
pretty. And warm. And pretty.

And the train car will travel one day. And we'll go to the sea together.
Please... Stay?
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