The Wistful Silence

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2026-08-17 22:29:50 -

The air in the cathedral of the old city was thick with the scent of roasted hazelnuts and the heavy, sweet decay of overripe figs, a perfume that seemed to cling to the skin and the soul alike, wrapping us in a warm, suffocating embrace that felt less like hospitality and more like a slow, deliberate burial in comfort. We stood in the shadows of the nave, watching the procession of the wealthy...

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