The Golden Compass

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2026-08-21 21:29:12 -

I dreamed of the moths again. They swirled in the lamplight of my childhood kitchen, a frantic, dusty galaxy orbiting the single, incandescent bulb. I woke with the taste of copper and old dust in my mouth, my body stiff with the particular ache that comes from sleeping in a chair. The room was cold, the kind of damp chill that seeps into the joints of a man who has spent too many winters in...

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