Future Note To Self

I used to be in the perfect crystal prison, a palace of solitude forged by mathematical gods but then I saw a pretty animal and followed it outside into a different world, then another moving thing, then another, then fell ill with radiation sickness in a black valley of sharp flint shards, and the red sky howled with rapist wolves, and through the dead wasteland I found my way back to my palace to find it smashed and dirty, a concrete cube two by two by two metres.