The Wistful Witness

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2026-08-19 11:57:59 -

I woke from a dream in which the walls of my apartment were made of thick, translucent amber, and suspended within that golden resin were thousands of moths, their wings still beating in a slow, frantic rhythm that I could hear more than I could see, a sound like the static of a radio tuned between stations, a sound that vibrated in the marrow of my bones and in the hollow space behind my eyes...

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