The Distant Joke

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2026-08-20 12:38:36 -

The Distant Joke

The dream was not of flight, but of sinking. It began in the silt, cold and absolute, where the water pressed against Thomas’s lungs not with the panic of drowning, but with the heavy, indifferent weight of stone. He was a boy again, or perhaps a man of great age; in the dream, time had no teeth. He walked through a landscape of grey mud and broken reeds, the horizon a flat line of white fog....

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