The Wistful Show
You have walked for three days through the grey, soot-choked expanse of the Pennine moors, your boots heavy with the mud of a season that refuses to end, and the wind that cuts across your face feels less like air and more like the cold, indifferent breath of a world that has already decided you are not worth saving, a verdict handed down by a court of invisible judges who have never seen your...
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