The Distant Garden

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2026-08-17 21:29:23 -

The rain in Bristol does not fall; it hangs, a gray curtain that smells of wet slate and old copper. You stand on the corner of Queen Square, your collar turned up against the damp, watching the steam rise from the manholes. You are not here for the weather. You are here because the house is watching you. It is a large thing, that house. Victorian, heavy with ivy that looks less like a plant...

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