The Golden Farce
The road to the monastery of St. Jude was not a road at all, but a suggestion of a path carved into the granite by centuries of weary feet and the relentless erosion of rain, and it climbed with such a stubborn, vertical insistence that it seemed less like a journey and more like a punishment, a slow ascent into the thin, cold air where the world below became a patchwork of green and grey and...
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