Columbia, South Carolina. Jesu, I never thought I would find myself in the American South, but life is long-lasting. The city is home to plenty of ghosts, or at least their stories, which is beautiful news for me. There must be a dozen gullible fools on every corner ready to be taken in by a devastatingly handsome vampire. And if I'm caught on film, my blur could easily translate to a ghost in the midsts. Perhaps the South will be a wonderful new place to call home.

We had to leave the Atlantis behind and buy a small houseboat to fit through the narrow canals to Lake Marion. The previous owner's register must now be a mess, but it doesn't much matter. The boat's disgustingly small. No one would connect it to the Atlantis. I hope (no, I can't imagine) that anyone can connect either to me. After all, I'm just a ghost, a shadow.

India is going to rent a car and meet us in the city. She says she could not abide the new houseboat, but really I think she needed some time to scream into the night sky. I wanted to dock in the city, but it seems a little too much. There can't be many houseboats lining the river. Besides which, I don't want to deal with the smell of barges laden with trash. Houseboats have no insulation. My sense of smell remains keen and the toxins burn at the dead membranes of my nose.

There is significant revitalization in the city, but in the outskirts, old port industry buildings have fallen into disarray. I'll try to find an old warehouse with access to the water. Old warehouses are very "in" right now, from what I've heard in the whispers I ignore in my nightly travels. I need the water though. I've become too accustomed to being on, or in, the water during the day. There I need not fear the freak chance of fire. The longer I exist, the more I see the danger in existence. Part of me wishes I had continued toward Golconda's light. But that is the final disappointment. Ignorance is not bliss, but it is hope. It is also folly. And utterly human. I need to hunt.