A Dusty Journal of Professor Julian Adrian Sinclair, recovered from behind an old mirror in his luxury apartment, two days after his disappearance on 2019/01/23.

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  2019, January, 23rd. Winter

  I have decided to set sail.

  Something about the sea has always fascinated me. I don't know what, but I know there is something there beneath the waves, waiting for me to discover it. This is why I have come to this decision. There has always been this voice, this whisper barely audible, but always noticeable in my head. Always chanting, always there. "The sea is your friend....The sea is your friend..." Not malicious, it feels kind of like...the alarm clock in the morning, annoying but not malicious. Anyway, I remember I found a mini-yacht in my dad's dock a few days ago, and it seems like the engine was working extraordinarily well. Gonna load some beer on the ship and just...well, go.

  2019, January, 24th. Winter

  The water seems calm today, perfect for starting this...exciting adventure?

  Just had a few beers, gotta keep up the mood. There are barely any clouds in the sky. It feels so peaceful, just in the middle of nowhere, enjoying the sunlight. Oh yeah, and most important of all: no paranoid parents telling me to "inherit the family business". I'm not into the money stuff, in fact...

  I'm sick of all that.

  2019, January, 31st. Winter

  I kind of miss home... I miss doing research in my lab...

  I ran out of beer. I ran out of books to read. Now I'm just stuck playing chess with myself...and reciting chemical formulas. I miss my old life, too late to turn back now. Good thing my fishing rod is still intact, no need to worry about food. Speaking of that, I never knew catching fish was this easy in the sea. I don't even need to wait five seconds after casting the rod, and a fat fish just bites the hook. Don't even need a hook.

  2019 March, 14th. Spring

  Hello diary, it's been a while.

  I couldn't find the diary for a while; it was behind the mirror in the bathroom when I found it, somehow. Anyways, I have to praise the efficiency of this ship; somehow, the fuel and electricity still haven't run out. But the GPS did break in a storm, and I now have no idea where the hell I am.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  2019, April, 11th. Spring

  How did this damn diary disappear again?

  I seem to have a kink for leaving a diary behind a mirror and just forgetting about it.

  So I threw away every single mirror on this ship yesterday. Yeah, into the sea it goes. No more hiding from me, diary. I reached for it today, just to realize I have lost the privilege of knowing what I look like. That aside, it has been increasingly foggy, not only that, I have reached absolutely NO LAND to refill on my resources, the fuel is about to run out, the electricity has blacked out, no lights. And it's so damn foggy I can't see outside. This is going to drive me insane one day. At least I have fish to eat.

  2019, May, 9th. Spring

  The fog made its way into the ship, and I could barely see, not to mention write.

  It's so quiet. No waves splashing, no seagulls squawking. Just me and this god-forsaken fog. I could only manage to write this because it has cleared up, just a little.

  I'm going insane...Help me

  2020, December. 31st. Winter

  It's been a year, how am I still alive?

  The fog is still here, but it's almost completely cleared up; I still can't see long distances. I haven't slept since the last time I wrote in this diary. But somehow...I don't feel tired. I feel awake... I wonder what I look like now... I feel tons shorter than I was...almost like I've shifted into a child. Weird. And also, I got the habit of reminding myself of my name constantly - "My name is Julian, Julian Adrian Sinclair.", "My name is Julian Adrian Sinclair."

  2021, January. 1st. Winter

  I found land!

  It's not my delusion, it's not my imagination, it really is land. Solid land! How long has it been? I'm landing on the beach... Thank god...!

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  "Alessandre? Alessandre? Where are you? Oh my lord...what are you doing on the beach? You're going to get your hands dirty!"