Iron pyrite.

Hammered by the constant blows of years upon years and forged upon the anvil of a relentless machine is forged the toughest steel.

A game played of hide and seek, where what I won't name may motive an increase in the tone from those with the words and without the reason to write, other than self-aggrandisement.

I keep my search of an answer from the source (you, and you only), as relentless as in my prior assignments, with a difference: This is not a publication to be exposed to thousands, but personal.

The end result is unknown, a few hypothesis are being considered and, in the end there will be an answer, which might or might not fit any of my preconceived ideas.

I, of course, treat the croaks of ravens as so much hot air, which will disperse eventually. I've seen far worse.

And that would mean that I'm closer than I think. In the end, the answer will (or will not) be on your lips in that train station any given Saturday, from 7-9 pm.

Wishing my love a happy day and a better night.