The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-19 01:33:50 -

You are standing on the edge of the world, or at least that is what the wind tells you as it whips your coat around your legs like a flag of surrender, and the air is so thin and sharp it tastes of iron and old pennies, a metallic tang that coats the back of your throat and refuses to leave. It is not a poetic edge, not the kind found in the oil paintings of the Hudson River School, but a...

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