Hello, My Friend

Do you know why I do what I do?   Many of my visitors ask that question: why? Am I simply an altruist? No, they think. That can't be it. Not, after witnessing the consequences of my trade, could one be so foolish to believe I have benevolent intentions. Am I bound to do it, then? Perhaps some foppish folly fated from Fey forced my hand, or perhaps I've done dirty dealings with dastardly devils of the Nine Hells. This, too, is forced from their mind when they realize the absurdity of my... influence. No, I would not be one to fall under the mechanisms of those lesser creatures. Finally, they begin to think I have a scheme. A grand plan that each transaction brings closer and closer to fruition. Those that get this far are right. But they only see half the picture.   You see, my dear friend, who stumbled upon this note thinking they had accidentally discovered some sort of secret... I do have a plan. And you are part of it. The cogs in this terrible machine have no choice but to churn along towards a purpose they cannot possibly fathom. However, for you to fully grasp my motive, I must deduce this machination of horror to something your mortal mind can understand.   Imagine, if you will, that you were a painter. But not just any painter... no, you were the greatest in all the lands. For years upon endless years, you toiled at your craft. You tweaked it. You perfected it. you made it... whole. One day, one gloriously glamorous day, after countless colorful canvases, and billions brushes broken, you forged in flame and fate, the perfect... masterpiece. All your years of training, trouble, turmoil... All longingly led to legend. You had created your Magnum Opus. The perfect painting. Your work was complete.   But then. Oh, but then. The painting rose against you. The colors grew dull. The paint made thin. The canvas turned to dust.. You watched, as all you had bled for, all you had burdened for, all you had CARVED IN THE CARCASS OF TIME WITH SCREAMS   died. it died. and you cried for it.   How would you feel, I wonder? Watching your child melt? Watching the forces of entropy erode your creation, slowly, to... chaos?   I'll tell you what you would do. You may become enraged. Lash out at the unnamed entity that dared to tear you down. You may become sorrowful, and wonder what the point of it all was to begin with. You may even withdraw entirely. Commit yourself to never creating again. Alas... you and I are very different.   When my painting was destroyed, I did not lash out in anger. Nor did I fall into sorrow, or withdraw from my destiny. No, I chose a different path. A path of... clarity. I recognized the laws that had bound me, and I decided to embrace them. If my world wanted chaos so bad, then I would usher forth chaos. I would tear the destiny away from my pretty. perfect. painting.   After all, that is what it wanted.   That is what it wants.   That is what you want.   So please.   Let me welcome you.   T O M Y R E A L M O F W O N D E R