The Distant Metropolis
The rain had not ceased for three days, a relentless, weeping curtain that turned the cobblestones of the lower quarter into a slick, mirror-like expanse of grey sludge, reflecting the gas lamps with a tremulous, sickly glow that seemed to pulse in time with the city’s own arrhythmic breathing. I stood at the window of my cramped attic room, my forehead pressed against the cold glass, watching...
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