The Distant Garden
The first frost of that peculiar, elongated autumn arrived not as a sudden chill but as a slow, crystalline accretion upon the glass, a microscopic lattice of ice that I observed with the same detached, clinical precision I applied to the spectroscopic analysis of spectral lines, for in the quiet, dust-moted stillness of my study in the old university town, time had ceased to flow linearly and...
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