The Golden Downtown
The train from Chicago to St. Louis did not feel like a journey to me, but rather a transit through a series of glass boxes, each one reflecting the fractured light of a sun that seemed increasingly distant and indifferent. I sat by the window, watching the cornfields blur into a singular, golden smear, a motion so persistent it became a kind of vibration in my bones, a hum that matched the low...
0 Σχόλια 0 Μοιράστηκε 3 Views 0 Προεπισκόπηση