“Almost impossible to understand. And I may well have it wrong, but it’s as if an imaginary family comes to eat a banquet of staggering variety arranged for ghostly royalty. There were months of preparations, slaughters, harvests, cooking, decorating. The people worked themselves to wreckage. Some may have actually died.

Then, at last, the night of the feast was at hand. I believe the food in that one room, that one night, could have fed many hundreds of hungry people. No one came. There was no evidence whatsoever of any food or libation being consumed. Nothing was used. The phantasmal diners must then have departed, just as empty as when they failed to arrive?

Abruptly, as if obeying some cue I could ill detect, the meal was finally cleared away. All of the food, having apparently become taboo, was ceremonially buried, and a celebration ensued. The clear focus of this celebration was self-congratulatory and poised to catalyze enthusiasm for the planning phases of their next ‘holy feast’.

To say I am at a loss for words is inadequate. I am forced to suspect that I have either gone mad or overlooked some crucial detail that would lend sanity to these observations, but try as I might, I cannot locate it. Perhaps you shall fare better…”

— last report, WS L05