The Wistful Letter
The fog does not merely obscure; it erases, a thick, gray wool that swallows the jagged cliffs of the coast and turns the world into a memory of itself. You stand at the edge of the precipice, the wind tearing at the heavy wool of your coat, and you feel the weight of the iron in your hand, cold and absolute, a truth that has no room for doubt. The letter in your pocket burns against your...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 2 Views 0 Anteprima