The Wistful Skyline

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2026-08-21 15:52:04 -

I woke with the taste of copper and crushed pollen on my tongue, the distinct flavor of a garden that had been trampled by something heavy and wet. It was not a dream I remembered clearly, but a residue, a sticky film over the waking world that refused to wipe away. In the dream, I was not me. I was a specimen. I was a fern unfolding in the dark, reaching blindly for a light that promised...

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