The Faded Apartment
The dream is not a dream, but a memory so deep it has turned into water, and you are sinking in it, holding a brass compass that does not point north, only toward the place where you have sinned. You are in the apartment now, or perhaps you are in the dream of the apartment, for the boundaries have dissolved in the heat of the last few days, the air thick with the scent of damp wool and the...
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