y house is buried in leaves. They’ve piled up to the rooftop. I had to dig a shaky, ant-filled tunnel so that I could get to my front door. Like an idiot, I drove my car into it a few days ago and now I can’t find it. It’s made life difficult as I now have to walk to work, which is well over 20 miles away over a bridge that has no means by which pedestrians can safely pass.

Early this morning, I thought I heard the crying of a child. I wonder why he tried to penetrate the landslide but now he’s trapped and he’s probably getting hungry. I just hope that more people don’t go in after him. They’ll be swallowed alive as well. I don’t have time for rescue missions, I need to get on to work. It’d be nice if I could find my car, however.

The weather this weekend is supposed to be clear. I’ll start the rescue missions then. I’d hire some dogs but I’ve heard a rumor that all the dogs in the city have organized and now patrol in massive groups, fur stiff and heads barking. Right now, a large canine phalanx is angularly running around the beach, threatening people who had arrived to look at the exposed rock that had been shifted up out of its deep muscle when the earth stretched and yawned sleepily a million years ago.