This time we are now inhabiting, if it may be called inhabiting, as we are continually tilted to the past, can be seen as the time of the lost world. But here we see it is not the world these people find to be lost, but the lost souls making their way within its confines. I feel, to define it in human terms, a great sadness and disappointment; I am certain all of you, many of whom are noticeably sensitive, have been touched by two such lost souls, Miss Kilman and Septimus Smith.

Miss Kilman is a soul to be pitied. This pity, of course, is a human feeling – it would be more aspirational to incite you all to feel as she feels. The best intentions may be thrown askew, and Miss Kilman is struggling, as the man Septimus struggles, with herself. She does not feel that she has inherent worth, despite her inner arguments. She does have meaning, however; she can cause an impression upon others, but she cannot know. Her anger obstructs. She attempts to surpass worldly care and pettiness, a noble idea which I can so applaud in humanity, yet is not quite a strong enough, centered enough, attempt to leave her anger and hate behind. This can be seen in her clinging to some worldliness, her wish to secure the affections of Elizabeth and her so very human attachment to one comfort, eating.

Septimus is but one of those affected by bloodshed; his mental state is an attempt to make sense of the incomprehensible. It is dangerous for humans to try. Sometimes it is said those with mental illness, of this type or others, are able to better communicate with that which is above or beyond others – with me, with a Divine power, with the souls of the departed. But, it is rather that these struggling individuals are fighting against paranoia, are further removing themselves from truth. This fragmentation cannot even allow a person to seek the truth, which is perhaps what many humans would say is the meaning of living; to live in a quest for meaning. Indeed Septimus struggles, as there are aspects of the world calling him to stay. And herein lies my disappointment; he still recognizes the beauty of the earth but not of human nature. And when he feels the influence I have been wont to provide, seems to hear a voice very like my own, reaching out, in this state it becomes twisted and he finds himself believing human nature and Nature are not reconcilable. What other small signs lead you all to feel, as fellow humans or otherwise, for these people and their struggles?

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