The Pale Path
You are standing in the doorway of the cellar, and the air is thick with the smell of wet earth and old paper, a scent that seems to have seeped into the very pores of the walls, clinging to you like a damp shroud that you cannot shake off no matter how hard you try to breathe, to exist, to remain separate from this heavy, suffocating silence that has settled over the house since the war began,...
0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 1 Visualizações 0 Anterior