The Pale Tower
You wake in the blue hour, the one where the world is suspended between the death of night and the birth of day, and the first thing you know is that the letters are gone. They are not merely missing from your memory; they have shattered, like a pane of glass struck by a stone, scattering into a thousand jagged, meaningless shards that you can no longer assemble. You are a man of words, or you...
0 Σχόλια 0 Μοιράστηκε 1 Views 0 Προεπισκόπηση