The Eighth of September Two Thousand and Eleven. Thursday.
I've spent the last few days in beautiful city of edinburgh and I've had a lovely time. There's just one little thing that worries me.
I remember when I visited last year I had the nagging feeling that I was being watched - not so much from other people but somehow from 'outside' the way a goldfish might vaguely be aware of an observer beyond its bowl. This seemed to be coupled with regular occurrences of my initials turning up about the city. The first photo at the top is from a sign in Leith I saw last November.
I had dismissed this as simple paranoia until tonight during my current visit when I came across the vehicle numberplate shown in the second photo. That these letters should only appear while I'm in Edinburgh puzzles me. All I can say is that the sense of being regarded by something outside of the ordinary world has returned.
Only it seems much stronger this time.
Thank goodness I leave for home in the morning. I don't know if I'd be brave enough to return. Not if it's worse again.
More soonliest.
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