Nests of Chimeras: Chronicles of Hugaida

Any story told twice (say, in the morning and in the evening, or at the beginning of spring and at the end of autumn, or out loud and on paper) is already two different stories.

So if every person, even the most hopeless one, is allowed to have doubles from the looking-glass world—and the one that watches over our dreams, and also one more, silent but mighty, about whom there’s no need to say another word—why wouldn’t such doubles exist for the text created in the image and likeness of the best that’s within us?

It happened that the story about the Himer Nests was told twice—by the number of magical winds of Homana that poisoned the storyteller’s blood. You were given the story told in the morning, when it’s time for a wind named Hugayda; the story written in black letters on white paper, riddled with amusing notes, marginalia, and caricatured faces in the margins.

What luck you have been given.