I have lost count of the years—the many, countless years I’ve spent on this dreadful place. The days are so dark and dreary, each like the one that came before. It’s always so cold and yet, the air is hot, scorching hot. What am I saying? This land has always been like this. It’s been so long since I’ve seen a clear day, if ever. For once let the sky be filled with large white clouds and the clear blue beyond be washed in sunshine. Far too long I have hoped for cool water to bathe in, warm sunshine to bask in, and air. Oh, how I would love to breathe in cool, fresh air. But what do we get? Poison. Voya Nui is where I am. It’s an island, not the paradise that might come to your mind. It’s a harsh and desolate place; completely deprived of life, save my few fellow Matoran. This land burns an