Chapter 33. Bitter Waters

Cold winds of the early morning bite into my lungs as thick fog engulfs me and my little boat. Unable to catch any form of sleep after several rounds of coitus with Tarmah, I set sail as early as possible toward Babylon. And in order not to disturb her beauty sleep, I carried her all the way from the cave to the the boat, wrapping her in my dark coat before I lay her by a comfortable corner.

After all, she confessed to me, my body aches seem to disappear as anxiety takes over— a strange unrest over the unknown. The ethereal silence on the face of the waters worsens my state, seemingly heightening my senses as I begin to row in the direction of the rising sun, with creaks of stress echoing from the corners of the vessel at intervals.

A feeling of urgency consumes me, the need to reach the banks of Babylon etched in my brain. Ideas are building up and crumbling in my head, and the only feasible plan I can think of involves a meeting with the