The Golden Greenhouse

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 18:24:33 -

I dreamed that the air was made of glass, brittle and singing with the cold, and I was running through a field where every blade of grass was a shard of mirror, reflecting not my face but a thousand versions of myself, all older, all wearing the same suit, all holding the same briefcase. I woke with the taste of iron in my mouth and the sensation of a fracture running through my sternum, a...

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