(Much of this is illegible) Day 42: I begin to suspect that we are being manipulated, as if by some unseen hand far above us. Always, I heard the sound of clicking. Click-click. Click-click. (Several pages are missing, and much of the ink on the remaining pages has run together.) .. and then told them I wouldn't take any cheese unless it came directly from the Revered Mother's hand... (Mud or something similar has soaked the pages here.) Day 115: My mother told me I was special. I never knew how right she was... (the ink has smeared horribly.)