The Distant Journey
The chandelier above you is not merely glass and crystal, but a constellation of frozen lightning that has forgotten how to strike, and you stand beneath its cold, prismatic glare, holding a tumbler of amber liquid that tastes of oak and regret, while the room around you swells with the low, thrumming bass of a cello that seems to vibrate directly against the hollows of your bones, a sound that...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews