They are lost, but also not lost but somewhere in the world. Most of them are small, though two are larger, one a coat and one a baby carriage full of boxes wrapped up in newspaper. Of the small things, one is a certain ring. It is lost from me and where I am, but it is also not gone. It is somewhere else, and it is there to someone else, it may be - possibly one of the white masks. But if not there to someone else, the ring is, still, not lost to itself, but there, only not where I am. If these white-masked buffoons don't find the ring soon I am seriously going to have a conniption fit.
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