The Golden Harbor
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a suspended curtain of grey water that turned the cobblestones of the Old Quarter into slick, dark mirrors reflecting the flickering gas lamps and the jagged, black silhouettes of the town’s ancient architecture, a place where the scent of damp wool and old stone seemed to seep into the marrow of anyone who walked its narrow, winding streets,...
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