The Faded Photograph
The wind through the shattered atrium does not blow so much as it presses, a heavy, humid hand against the glass, pushing inward with a patience that feels less like nature and more like the slow, inevitable erosion of stone. You stand at the center of the rotunda, your boots sinking slightly into the moss that has reclaimed the marble floor, the greenery thick and suffocating, swallowing the...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 30 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen