The Golden Greenhouse
The conservatory at the University of St. Jude’s was not merely a building; it was a lung. It breathed in the damp, coal-choked air of the industrial valley and exhaled a humid, chlorophyll-scented sigh that settled into the pores of every scholar who dared to linger within its glass ribs. I had spent three years mapping the fungal rot in its foundations, a task that required a patience which...
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