The Distant Clue
The mud here does not behave like the mud of your childhood fields in Ohio, thick and honest, smelling of rain and decaying leaves, but instead it possesses a silted, metallic viscosity that clings to your boots with a tenacity that feels almost personal, as if the earth itself is trying to anchor you to this place where the sky is the color of a bruised plum and the air tastes of ozone and old...
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