The Faded Road
The dream returns as it always does, a road of white stone crumbling into a black sea, the dust settling on my eyelids before I even open them. I am Elias, thirty-two years of ink and silence, and I wake with the taste of chalk in my mouth. The year is 1348, and the Abbey of St. Jude stands like a gray tooth against the winter sky. My desire is singular, a hunger that has outgrown my body: I...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima