The Golden Song

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2026-08-18 23:05:12 -

The Golden Song

The ivy was dying. It curled inward. Brown tips. Dry leaves. I watched it from the window. My desk was cold. The dust motes danced in the grey light. I am a man of books. I am a man of silence. I am a man who has forgotten how to breathe without counting the seconds. My name is Elias. I teach Latin. I teach the dead tongue. I teach the living to speak to the dead. The war was far away. Or so I...

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