I know this place.
Of course. You have been here many times. Countless.
But why am I here again?
You do not remember? Is that world you cared so much about already gone from your recollection?
It seems like a dream I had as a child.
You have said that before. How do you feel?
It’s not peace, exactly. It’s something else. It’s hard to describe.
Powerlessness is strange to you.
But why am I here?
It seems that once again you have fallen into the old patterns of violence and greed and fear.
Must I go back, then?