The Wistful Incense

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2026-08-18 03:29:41 -

I dreamed of the ceiling again. Not the plaster, but the space behind it. A void where the air tasted of copper and old pennies. I woke with my mouth dry, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. The hotel room was silent, save for the hum of the air conditioning. I am a sinner. I know this now. Not for the war, not for the blood on my hands in the mud of the Balkans, but for...

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