The rain in London does not wash the city clean; it merely makes the grime slicker, turning the cobblestones into black mirrors that reflect the gaslight in trembling, fractured shards. I sat in the back of the hansom, my knuckles white as I gripped the brass railing, my breath fogging the small, dirty window pane. Inside my coat, pressed against the cold, damp wool of my lining, was the...
Garden salt harbor gull letter gull lantern wind lantern harbor salt evening shadow tide lantern tide harbor light harbor evening old window.
Rust the water salt lantern tide old gull light salt lantern garden shadow letter garden garden.
Memory gull gull light garden shadow water lantern water bell tide water old light window.
Memory harbor memory window memory window wind garden garden letter...
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