The Golden Farce
You are standing in the middle of the burning hall, your lungs already tasting the acrid, metallic tang of the smoke that is curling around your ankles like a living, hungry thing, and you are smiling because you know, with a certainty that feels like a physical blow to the chest, that you have finally won the game that was never meant to be played. The fire is not an accident, it is a period...
0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 2 Views 0 Vista previa