At the beginning, she had descended down a stairway towards an obscure arrangement of alleys amidst a labyrinthine network of streets, roads, avenues, boulevards, cul-de-sacs, passages, corridors, and walkways that seemed to shift and switch according to their own volition. None of them were in the most remotest sense recognisable to her but she did not mind for the novelty, for whenever she would pass from one place to the next, it would be as though she would gaze for the very first time at what she had come to see many a times before. An indiscernible air of incipient irreality at times pervaded the boundaries of where she would choose to step, which was then carried forth by the winds of change, as though all that regarded with sufficient severity could sooner than said fade out of existence forever and ever, like a dream at night forgotten by the coming dawn. She had not seen anyone except for herself for longer than she could recall except for the occasional flock of hudbud birds that seemed remarkably oddly out of place.
By midday, or so it would appear, she had begun assembling a loose recollection of places and names, starting with Nergal St., which, across an encumbering grid of narrow passages with illegible names, led to Ereškigal Canal, bordered by Apsû Boulevard, whence she walked towards Enki's District, passing by numerous mildly terrifying Mušḫuššū, a once before most popular tavern whence the traces and vestiges of song and merriment almost emerged, a public library bearing the name of al-Jāḥiẓ with neo-gothic architecture that seemed very oddly out of place, a cul-de-sac that momentarily appeared but then turned into a fountain made of cedar wood, a dwelling that according to oral history Šubši-mašrâ-Šakkan had once inhabited, and, eventually E-abzu, the main temple of Enki, although it was, oddly, upside down. She decided to rest for a bit, fell asleep, and dreamt of being offered hospitality at the humble house of a farmer near Eridu by the name of Gazimbi.
When she arose, it was midday, as it had been before. Enki's temple had been replaced with a very large stele that stretched up into the sky past the atmosphere of her sphere of dwelling, bearing inscriptions in Linear Elamite. She felt neither hungry nor thirsty and yet increasingly insatiable appetite and profound polydipsia rose to their absence. Time passed and after a while she came to notice that she was, once more, walking. She passed past noble houses, humble shacks, marketplaces, pillars and gates, broad streets, narrow streets, streets of four mouths, streets of the dark shade, lofty lanes, lanes of the lost, byroads, ancient schools with discarded sign lists and tablets in Sumerian strewn all around, Nergal St., which, across a encumbering grid of narrow passages with illegible names, led to Ereškigal Canal but then she stopped.
Suddenly she realised she had been here before! "What does that mean?" she thought to herself and as she reviewed the scene in front of her with a more discerning eye, she noticed that the very boundaries of the endless passages and pathways turned indeterminate the more she looked at them. She wondered what indescribably complex succession of thoughts or feelings had led her down this particular path and what narration they would spell out. And as soon as she had thought as she had, the path described by her journey to where she was now appeared in front of her with what appeared to be a large gate in the distance ahead, whence she must have come, as she then thought.
A solitary hudhud bird alighted amidst the scenery with the words "Ēyn sōf" written on his wings,
turned around, and spoke unto her: "Ša šīmāta epšī."
She knew where she was.
She awoke.
