The Faded River
The cart wheels groaned against the packed earth of the King’s Highway, a rhythmic, wooden complaint that seemed to vibrate through the soles of my boots and into the marrow of my legs, a constant reminder of the distance between where I stood and the place where I had left my life, which was not a place at all but a state of being, a delicate equilibrium of balance and debt that I had...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen