The Distant Garden

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 17:40:31 -

The mist hangs low over the moor, thick as wool. You walk. Your boots sink into the peat. Each step is a small, heavy effort. The cold bites your fingers. You are looking for the House. It is not a house you can see from here. It is a shape in the fog. A silence that has weight. You have walked for three days. Your water is gone. Your bread is stale and hard. You eat it anyway. The crumbs turn...

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