From the moment the tale of her ruin made itself known, mankind has coveted proof of her existence.
Many a curious hand has stalked across the glossy veins of maps and the cracked vertebrae of books enclosing information most pivotal to her secret whereabouts and the tragic evanescence that initiated her exile.
Many a sailor explorer scientist poet have perished among the gnashing jaws of the sea in their pursuit of the glory her exploitation would surely bring.
In response to such grievances-- the reality of losing oneself in the midst of searching for what has already been lost-- imagination-- the belief in magic, in the seemingly unbelievable-- was outlawed within the human psyche;
now, they say she is merely a madman's legend, a myth concocted by Plato so as to warn against the perils of greed.
But never did they consider that perhaps she did not want to be found to begin with, that her seclusion has always been a necessity so as not to repeat the monstrosities of the past-- so she should not resurface to satiate their earthly desires only so she can be drowned anew.
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