The Faded Sutra

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2026-08-19 00:31:48 -

The Faded Sutra

The dream is always the same, a grey and waterlogged expanse of pavement that stretches out toward a horizon where the sky hangs low and heavy, bruised with the color of old bruises, and in the center of this endless, rain-slicked void stands the old oak tree, its branches stripped bare by the wind, its bark peeling away in long, rotting strips that look like flayed skin, and I am standing...

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