The Distant Garden
You are standing at the edge of the city, where the cobblestones give way to the raw, breathing earth of the old quarry, and you feel the weight of the silence pressing against your eardrums like deep water. It is late, the kind of late that only exists in the margins of history, where the gas lamps flicker with a sickly, jaundiced light and the shadows stretch out long and thin across the...
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