I am Jean Claude. I am an Etherial Being, intangible and untouchable. I may choose to take on a solid form, but it is with great pain and reluctance that I do so. I feel unwelcome amongst the solid forms of this realm, prefering to hide in plain sight, invisible and at one with the breeze. You may recognise me, you may not. If you do, it is probably because you have inhaled several thousand particles of my being in the time it has taken you to read this. 

I do not remember my life before waking up in this mysterious country, for I am kept together by the strange magic that permeates this realm, and I am forced to assume that moving from one realm to another in such a violent fashion must have damaged the force holding me together. Therefore I have very little physical strength. I am merely a collection of enchanted gases, so the conclusion many draw is that I have no power. This could not be farther from the truth.

The unusual powers that this realm is run on are as meat and bread to my weakened form, and every day I regain strength and mental agility. The creatures that abide within this realm are kin to me. They are attached to my mind, feeding from my strength and suffering my weaknesses. I pity them, however. To be slaved to a powerless being such as I must be agonisingly tedious. I imagine that they would live much stronger lives if they roamed free. Yet, I shall not let them escape. They are the anchor for my form, and the skein that holds my mind intact. 

I long for my memories, but I know that no longing will bring them back to me. I can feel them slipping through my fingertips like wisps of forgotten dream. Even now, I try to grasp them, but I feel nothing. In time, they will return, but until then I must continue on, free of memories yet burdened by their weight.

Life goes on, and though I have no past to draw on, I have quickly grasped the strange mechanics that social interaction in this world is based on. I have been taking on a solid form more often, and even participating in  social events. I have now found employment as a guardian of THE SISTERHOOD (capitals are so vulgar!). Do note that this is an honorary title at best, because the lovely ladies who I 'work' with scarcely need protection. As I am sure you may have heard, they do "travel around in packs and carry 'whore red lipstick'" (I hope to dear god that I got that right.)

  [better, but still needs revision.]