Since that cursed night in Paris, I have tried in vain to find the Rue de Cé again.

I have trawled the internet, visited libraries in search of old and outdated maps,

spoken to locals who have lived in Paris their whole life, and yet the Rue D'Ase remains a mystery.

I'm no fool. I know that street names change. Cities grow and move,

and what once was may no longer be. And yet, to my great embarrassment, I have found no area of Paris

that has ever answered to the name Rue d' Cé. This is the street I lived on during

my last few months of studying at university. This is also the street where I heard the dreadful

orchestra of Erich Zahn. The orchestra was organized by my then roommate Bastion.

Bastion and his orchestra would have practices at our residence.

One night, I listened to them play, and all hell broke loose.

I escaped and fled to the heart of Paris.

Since that day, I can't find the street, Rue Dose, nor my old apartment.

It has been suggested to me that perhaps I'm misremembering the name of the street, that perhaps I'm suffering some kind of

nervous breakdown. I'm not. My mind is fully intact, but I do admit that after my experience

in my apartment with the orchestra of Erich Zahn,

I was afraid to return to my apartment on Rue Dose.

After the ordeal, I found myself a new residence and continued my studies of metaphysics at the university.

I tried to put the memory of that ghastly night out of my mind.

But as the weeks drew on, I found it harder and harder to sleep at me. I tried to put the memory of that ghastly night out of my mind.

But as the weeks drew on, I found it harder and harder to sleep at night.

As I drifted into sleep, I heard the uncanny sounds of my housemate's viol da gamba, which

is basically a large violin.

...