The Golden Echoes
The velvet cord that once bound the sash around my waist now hangs loose, a fraying thread of crimson that seems to bleed into the dark stone of the cell floor, and I watch it with the dull, heavy patience of a man who has forgotten how to move, for the weight of the years I have spent here is not merely in the stone that presses against my back but in the silence that has grown thick as honey...
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