The Wistful Campus
You are not human. You are the ash that remains after the fire of a life has burned too long. You walk the frozen roads of the highlands, where the snow does not melt but hardens into glass. The wind cuts through your rags. It does not feel like pain. It feels like truth. You are Elias. Or you were. Now you are a thing of habit and hunger. Your feet bleed. You do not stop. To stop is to die. To...
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