The Golden Crossing
The train that carried me from the industrial sprawl of Pittsburgh to the quiet, decaying suburbs of Ohio did not move so much as it suffered a slow, metallic bruising against the rails, a grinding, rhythmic agony that I felt in the hollows of my teeth and the deep, aching marrow of my spine, a journey that was less a transit of space than a migration of the soul through a landscape of rust and...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen