The Faded Apartment
We have been walking for nine days, or perhaps ten, the count having slipped through our fingers like water through a sieve, and the landscape has become a blur of pale grass and gray sky, a vast, indifferent sheet of paper upon which we have scrawled our small, desperate itinerary, and I find myself thinking not of the destination, which is merely a point on a map, a dot of ink that means...
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