The Faded Photograph

ha aggiunto una foto Literature

2026-08-19 00:50:22 -

The mud on your boots is black. It clings to the leather like wet ash. You pull them off at the threshold. They sit there, heavy and silent. The air inside is cold. It smells of damp wool and old iron. You are in the keep. The stone walls press in. They are thick. They are old. You do not look up. You look at the floor. The stones are worn smooth. Generations have walked here. You walk now. You...

0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima