The Distant Legend
The rain did not fall. It drifted. It hung in the air like a fine grey mist, clinging to the wool of my coat. It soaked into the soles of my boots. I walked. The path was mud. The trees were black silhouettes against a white sky. I carried a satchel. Inside the satchel was a book. The pages were damp. I am a scholar. I study history. Specifically, the history of the border. The border between...
0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 2 Visualizações 0 Anterior