The Distant Machine

أضاف وظيفة جديدة Literature

2026-08-20 07:19:16 -

I write this by the pale, trembling light of a candle that seems to shrink as the night deepens, its wick smoking and dying like a soul that has forgotten how to breathe, and I write it because my hands are no longer steady enough to hold the quill without shaking, a shaking that began in the fingers and has since migrated to the bones, to the very marrow of my being, which feels hollowed out...

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