The Distant Garden

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 00:13:03 -

The dream always began with the rust. Not the sound of it, but the texture, a dry, flaking powder that coated the inside of my eyelids. I would open my eyes to see the garden, not the one I knew, but the one I had failed to maintain. The roses were not dead; they were merely too large, their thorns elongated into black needles that pierced the sky, dragging the clouds down into the soil. In the...

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