The Wistful Silence
You arrive at the city of Ostrava not when you wish to, but when the fog demands it. It is a place of soot and stone, a labyrinth of medieval spines wrapped in the gray breath of industry, where the air tastes of iron and old rain. You are twelve years old, though you do not feel the weight of your own age, only the heaviness of the pack on your back and the silence that has followed you since...
0 Reacties 0 aandelen 1 Views 0 voorbeeld