The Faded Road

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2026-08-17 14:55:16 -

The Faded Road

The wind smells of iron and wet stone. You know it. You have always known it. It clings to your wool coat, to the leather of your gloves, to the salt-crust on your lips. You are walking. The road is old. It is older than the trees that bow their heads in the grey mist. It is older than the village you left behind three days ago. It is older, perhaps, than the name they gave you at birth. You do...

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