The Wistful Skyline
The iron bones of the city stretch out before you, not as a destination but as a wound, a jagged scar of soot and steam that has festered across the valley since the first locomotive screamed its arrival into the silent hills. You stand at the precipice of the cliff, where the granite gives way to the abyss, and the wind, cold and indifferent, tears at the lapels of your greatcoat, a garment...
0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 2 مشاهدة 0 معاينة