The Distant Metropolis

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2026-08-21 18:36:23 -

The rain does not fall so much as it is delivered, a cold, insistent percussion against the glass of the workshop window where you stand, your hands buried in the wet clay of a bowl that refuses to hold its shape, slipping, sliding, dissolving back into the formless earth that birthed it. You are Thomas Bradshaw, or you were, before the city began to bleed into your peripheral vision, before...

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