The Wistful Asylum

bir ses eklendi Literature

2026-08-17 19:24:37 -

The fog rolls in thick as wool. It tastes of iron and old rain. You are here. You have always been here. The mist clings to your skin. It is cold. It is wet. It is a living thing. You pull your coat tighter. The wool scratches your neck. You do not care. You are waiting. You are always waiting. The landscape is a blur. Gray on gray. The trees stand like sentinels. Their branches are bare. They...

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