This was where we encountered our first true hazard. I was walking towards my partner through the empty city, when I suddenly was flung off my feet, and knocked backwards several paces. I was unscathed, but shaken. And then I could see it. Ethereal printed letters hung in the air, unnatural and red, like the glowing copy from Satan's own press.
It was this foul curtain which had flummoxed me! And now a voice from above called out at me, announcing that I was not allowed to enter the tenement of its master, never mind the fact that he and his neighbors appeared to have no interest in actually occupying their city.
And as we proceeded through several sims of this jumbled, garish city, I saw more of the foul red screens. In some places, the air was so thick with them that the only way ahead was by flying over the whole mess. I could see now why the local people liked to fly so much. It was the only way to get around in such an unkempt sprawl.
We made great progress today, crossing great stone roads that were marked with yellow and white patterns. My colleague found them "pretty." Personally, I prefer our own cobblestone and rail.
To our alarm, at one point we found ourselves up to our waist, then up to our necks, in the ground... and then mysteriously back on top of it again. It was almost as if the firmament itself had malfunctioned. At first we thought it was caused by the road, but later we discovered that it made no difference, over grass or over pavement. Finally, the realization came that it only seemed to happen while crossing from one territory into the next. I have termed this queer phenomena "Border Quicksand."