The Distant Threshold

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2026-08-21 14:32:17 -

The mist that clings to the moor is not merely weather but a substance, a thick, grey wool that swallows the horizon and erases the distinction between the earth and the sky, so that you, walking with your head bowed and your hands tucked deep into the pockets of your heavy wool coat, feel as though you are traversing the interior of a suspended breath rather than the exterior of a landscape....

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