The Faded River
The river was dying, and so was he. He stood at the edge of the embankment, where the silt had hardened into a crust of gray dust, and watched the water recede. It was not a dramatic withdrawal, not a sudden draining, but a slow, insidious retreat, inch by inch, leaving behind the skeletons of reeds and the pale, bleached bones of fish that had thrived there only a season before. The air was...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 2 Views 0 previzualizare