Each day I endure many tortures. There are always new ones, but these form the landscape of my daily suffering:

The wresting of the limbs into the fabrics of confinement and the driving of the feet into hard cages.

The confiscation of morsels hoarded for later need (who knows what horror will appear in front of me next).

The prohibition against consuming the delicacies named Nosharp and Eryuk that lie on the ground of Outside.

The passing of the damp cloth over the mouth and nose and the brutal seizing of the treasures made by nose.

The durance vile they call Cuddle.

While my campaign of protest and punishment has reduced the regularity and duration of these assaults upon my person, my attendants’ outrageous attempts to undermine my authority and dignity are unrelenting and must be thoroughly quashed.