The Distant Garden

σε πρόσθεσε στο Literature

2026-08-21 09:38:20 -

The dream is always the same. It is a sterile white room, smelling faintly of antiseptic and old copper. I am standing at a table made of cold steel, and on it sits a single, perfect apple. It is red, unblemished, and it does not rot. In the dream, I eat it, and the taste is exactly right, a balance of sugar and acid that feels like justice. When I wake, the taste is gone, replaced by the...

0 Σχόλια 0 Μοιράστηκε 1 Views 0 Προεπισκόπηση