//------------------------------//
// Day 1 
// Story: Wittgenstein's Seamstress 
// by Blank_Slate 
//------------------------------//

In the beginning, sometimes I left beautifully-arranged messages in the street.
I used the finest paint I could find, and though I didn't know too much about house paint I tried to prime and mix it as best I could. If only I had listened as Hayseed Turnip Truck rambled on about paints, then maybe I could have perfected my messages.
Somepony is living in Canterlot Castle, certain of the messages would say. Or in the Crystal Empire Library.
Naturally, they could only say that when I was in Canterlot, or in the Crystal Empire. Somepony is living in Sugarcube Corner, they would say when I was in Ponyville, written in a fetching violet or marigold. 
A pony must not forget about color or taste at such times.
Nopony came, of course. Eventually I stopped leaving the messages.
To Pinkie swear, perhaps I only left a few messages altogether.
I don’t know how long it is since I wrote those messages. If I had to guess, I would say at least one hundred moons, but after a time I stopped counting.
I regret that. Stopping counting, I mean. What would Twilight say? “In an emergency this dire, what hope do you have if you are unorganized?”
I’m sorry, Twilight. After a while I resumed counting moons. It has been at least twenty moons since then.
Of course, I was quite out of my mind for a while there. I hope I can be forgiven for my lapse in record-keeping.
And by counting moons I mean that I have been estimating based on a clock I keep wound. The time in terms of astronomical events has been stopped ever since this dreadful business began.
It is always early morning now. Or perhaps late afternoon. Dawn or dusk. Not quite twilight. I don’t know. Celestia and Luna have left along with everypony else, as far as I can tell. 
And by left, I mean that they have disappeared, rather than abandoned me, I think.
I hope nopony’s abandoned me. That would be quite rude of them.
I do not know how long I spent out of my mind.  
Perhaps I spent that time mad, like the poor ponies in the Equestria Insane Asylum, Screwball and the barking one. I mean formerly in.
Or perhaps I have simply forgotten the events that happened when I was out of my mind.
In either case, there is no doubt that I was mad. As when I traveled all through Saddle Arabia and visited Medineigh.
And for some reason wished to visit the river that runs through that city at the point where it runs through the bazaar. 
I have forgotten the name of the river, which was actually a horrid muddy stream. And, to my later disgust, I had splashed around in it and muddied my hooves.
In many ways my visit was disappointing. The city was small, and let’s not forget about the itinerant madness. For the amount of time I took to travel there, it was a let-down.
Still, one could see the Saddle Arabian mountains from the city. Occasionally I would be satisfied, is what I’m saying.
And there was a lovely collection of afghans that I found in somepony’s abandoned stall.
Afghans meaning blankets, obviously, and not dogs. 
And also a large bundle of yarn, which I've since used.
Soon after that time, I believe I lived in the Crystal Empire. In such a cold place I burnt library books (forgive me, Twilight), any wood that I could tear from houses, and even artifacts for warmth. Only occasionally did I chop down trees.
Which, by the way, is an ordeal. I wonder if Applejack would have laughed at my pathetic attempts to saw through a tree, or whether Spike would have helped me to light it. I’m almost sure he would’ve, had he been around.
I’m no lumberjack, let me tell you. How is it that one is supposed to cut through a tree trunk? In any case I think that the trees of the Crystal Empire, toughened as they are by the colder climate, are much harder than the trees I’m used to in Ponyville. I’m sure my friends would’ve been quite amused to see me red-faced and with scratches all over, desperately flailing around the base with an ancient hoof-saw.
The crystal ponies hadn’t quite acclimatized to the modern era, I think, and the craftsponies of that era seemed reluctant to give up on their ways of old. There are no cranes and modern construction sites there, but I noticed a scattering of hard-hats. Perhaps they were adapting, a little at a time.
Not like in Ponyville, where even now there is a (much dilapidated) building site with scaffolding like I am used to.
Ever since that half-built house collapsed and Pinkie Pie saved the builders in my Mysterious Mare Do Well disguise, construction has been much more cautious and regulated.
Of course, I mean it was more cautious and regulated.
Am I an old pony now? Or middle age?
There is one mirror in Sweet Apple Acres, where I live now. Perhaps it says I am middle-age.
I know that I started to dye my mane a while ago. I know that my skin is starting to wrinkle. My hooves say middle age. It has come to show on the backs of my hooves.
Conversely, my ability to sense gems hasn’t dulled.
In fact, if anything it has grown sharper and more aware as time goes on. However, occasionally I will not be able to sense anything, and will spend weeks lost in a gem-hidden haze.
Not now, though. Now I can sense the diamonds in Granny Smith’s jewelry case downstairs. I never saw her wear them, but now I can feel them almost to the point of distraction. 
Maybe I am only an early-middle aged mare. I am certain that once I attempted to keep count of my age, but I do not even remember when it was I lost track of this accounting.
I left those messages in huge block letters at places that everypony coming would see them, like outside the saloon in Appleloosa.
Not that that particular message worked well—the arid climate and driving sand from the desert soon faded it to nothing. In any case, I didn’t stay very long in that town.
When I lived in the Crystal Palace I had a fire there perpetually.
I built it in the entrance hall, rather than the rotunda. 
As a matter of fact I made a high tin chimney above it so that smoke could drift up through the high windows. Although occasionally rain would seep through, I didn’t mind. 
With no pegasi to monitor and direct the weather, clouds often build up into horrible storms.
Eventually rain came in through windows, which broke because of the extreme weather.
I thought I could possibly control the clouds, but I could do it only when I had Rainbow Dash’s cutie mark. Now that I am me, I cannot, except for very small and close to the ground clouds. Not enough to avert storms.
Windows still break. Several are broken here, in this farmhouse.
I do not mind the rain, however. 
Upstairs, I can see all across the orchard, the dam, and parts of Ponyville.
Downstairs, the overgrowth continually creeps across the windows and obstructs the view.
Soon I will have to cut them all down again.
When in Ponyville I used to live in Carousal Boutique, until I burned it to the ground. I am still not sure how that happened, though perhaps I had been cooking. I may have taken a moment to use the little fillies’ room, outside I may add, and when I turned back everything was ablaze.
After all those times telling Sweetie Belle to be careful I was the one who burned down my house by cooking.
And it was all made of wood, so even though I tried to put it out I couldn’t. All I could do was sit and watch as it burned all night. Or what I assumed was night, but could have been morning, or midnight, or anything.
It burned for a while, I mean, and after I saw that my attempts to douse the blaze had failed I sat down to watch it.
I still notice my house as I walk through town.
Well, obviously I notice the remains of my house, rather than my house.
One is still prone to assuming a boutique exists even if there is not much left of it.
Sweet Apple Acres has survived remarkably well, in my opinion.
Apart from the broken windows, general dilapidation (very slight), and the overgrown weeds.
I am no gardener.
When I decided to spruce the place up a bit, I found Big Mac’s shed, took out his trowel, and went about trying to remove the weeds around the perimeter of the house.
Which of course took a great period of time. So much so that by the time I had finished the circle around the house there were weeds again at the start point.
Now I only endeavor to clear the windows of creeping vines, so that I can see out.
Apart from that I found a number of beautiful drapes which I have placed around the homestead. I always thought it could use a little touch like that. The drapes are muted purple and gold, which suits the room I think.
And I have decided to restore the tapestries in the Castle of the Two Sisters, so I have them bunched up in Applebloom’s room.