I am standing over the aquarium as I write this, looking down through the screen lid at the two animals within. I have been struck by the realization that with Mr. Purvis gone, there is no one to take care of them, to feed them and shelter them. To watch over them.

I did not like Mr. Purvis – he was rude and abrupt and often times short tempered. I have no specific drive to do him any last favors. But these snakes should be taken care of. NEED to be taken care of.

Tomorrow I am to get on a ship and sail forth to another island. This is my job. This is what I’m paid to do. …but what if I don’t?

I know it sounds irrational, but it’s not as if I’m wanting for money, and not as if my occupation holds any specific pull for me other than being comprised of duties at which I naturally excel. I could walk away from it. I could stay here and watch over these snakes and make sure that they are taken care of. And if my ability to see maths is teetering on the verge of breaking down again, then maybe it would be for the best. There is no need for Mr. Purvis’s death to be that much more a tragedy. There is no need for