Dot: "Dear Diary, my soul plumbs new depths of despair. I long for the quiet of the farm. The warmth of my bed, the smell of flowers outside my window. I'm surrounded by a cesspool of activity. No words can do justice to the depravity that permeates the grounds."
Dot: "Dear Diary, It was a Saturday, the 3rd of September, that the world as I had known was forever doomed. The shadows that had sheltered me were banished by the blinding light of scrutiny. I knew I was about to enter the gates of Hell. But like the inescapable pull of gravity, there was nothing I could do about it."
