"A...shrink? What does a shrink do?" This is a new term and profession, but he presses on past that with a dismissive wave. "Oh it doesn't matter, as it sounds you think me quite mad for what I know as Truth. You're hardly the first, but you are enough in a line that I find such. Concerns tiresome. What I see and hear are quite real; terrifyingly so at times, when I was younger and ill-equipped to understand what I was bearing witness to. Things that, at the time, I'd wished weren't real, as I could not yet appreciate the majesty of Their evidence and forms."

He stands up now, however, pulling himself to his feet with only a slight wobble to compensate for the weight on his shoulders. (The thing HAS to be at least, what. 40 pounds? 50? It's wrought iron, after all.) "However, I suspect you'll find my words insufficient proof. Would you like to see something instead?" Micolash sounds like he's looking forward to this, eager to show off...whatever it is he has in mind.