The Distant Journey

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 23:48:12 -

The rain fell in sheets. It was the kind of rain that erases footprints. It is the kind that washes the dust from the streets of London, or perhaps it is merely the memory of dust. I stand here now, in the grey morning. The air is cold. It bites. I feel it in my bones. My name is Arthur. I was born in the lowlands. I came here for work. For a life. I came to the city of stones. The city of...

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