The Faded Sutra
The chrysanthemums bloomed in the atrium of the St. Jude’s Rehabilitation Center, a riot of gold and white against the sterile beige walls. They were beautiful. They were inevitable. They did not care who looked at them. They did not care about the smell of antiseptic or the hum of the fluorescent lights. They simply existed, pushing their petals out into the cold air with a quiet, stubborn...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 3 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen