The Distant Garden
You are standing in the middle of a room that does not exist, or at least, does not exist in any way that the geometry of the physical world would permit, and the first thing you notice is the smell, which is thick, cloying, and unmistakably the scent of overripe fruit left to ferment in a dark cellar for a century, a smell that is not merely olfactory but tactile, pressing against the back of...
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