The Faded Attic
The smell of roasted garlic and rendered fat hung thick in the air, a suffocating blanket that coated the back of our throats and blurred the edges of the tallow-lit hall, where the great stone tables groaned under the weight of iron pots and clay bowls, and the air was so dense with steam and the sharp, medicinal scent of crushed thyme and dried sage that it felt less like a feast and more...
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