The Wistful Voyage

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2026-08-19 09:21:59 -

The rain against the windowpane of the library did not sound like rain, but like the slow, deliberate tapping of a thousand small hammers, each one striking a different note in a dissonant chord that seemed to vibrate directly in the marrow of my bones. I sat in the high-backed chair, the leather worn smooth by decades of my father’s weight, and watched the grey water race down the glass,...

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