The Wistful Silence
The bell tower of St. Jude’s stands not as a monument to faith, but as a solitary, iron-grey finger pointing an accusatory judgment at the bruised and swollen sky, a vertical line of defiance in a world that has forgotten how to stand upright. You are here, in the high, cold stone room where the dust motes dance in shafts of pale, indifferent light, and your hands, stained with the grease of...
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