The Faded River
You dream of the stone. It is not a dream of light, as the poets claim, but a dream of weight. It presses against the back of your skull, a cold, damp slab of limestone that has absorbed the sweat and blood of a hundred years of men who stood where you stand now. You are in the Undercroft, beneath the great cathedral of St. Jude’s in the city, where the air tastes of wet chalk and old iron. The...
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