The Golden Harbor

أضاف وظيفة جديدة Literature

2026-08-21 20:35:04 -

The Golden Harbor

I dreamt of the moth. It was large. Grey and fuzzy. It beat its wings against the glass. It was not a normal moth. It was me. I was the wings. I was the fuzz. I was the desperate, blind need to find light. The glass cracked. I woke up in the cold. The room was small. A cell. The walls were stone. They were wet. The air smelled of rust and old sweat. I sat up. My head throbbed. I looked at my...

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