The Golden Ritual
The water in the reservoir behind the municipal dam does not merely sit; it waits, a vast, grey-blue eye staring up at the sky with the patient, hollow indifference of a thing that has seen too many cycles of decay and regeneration, a liquid mirror that reflects not the clouds but the accumulated sediment of a hundred years of human error, and I stand at the edge of the observation deck, my...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 3 Views 0 Anteprima