The Pale Tower
The tower stood at the edge of the district, a pale finger pointing accusingly at the low, bruised sky, and I had watched it for three days without once turning my head away. It was not a lighthouse, nor a water tower, nor any structure that had a name I could find in the city guides, yet it possessed the quiet, terrible authority of a monument to something forgotten. I lived in the apartment...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 2 Views 0 Anteprima