The Distant Garden

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 12:08:01 -

The willow tree. It stands in the yard. It has always stood there. I see it in my sleep. Its branches hang low. They touch the mud. They do not move. The wind is dead. I am the tree. I am the roots. I am the bark. I know this. My brother, Thomas, does not know. He is a lawyer. He wears a grey suit. The fabric is stiff. It smells of chalk. He sits at the desk. The desk is wood. It is dark. He...

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