The Distant Joke

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2026-08-22 05:06:25 -

The Distant Joke

The dream was not a narrative but a topography, a shifting landscape of moss and bone where the air tasted of copper and ozone, and I stood at the center of it, not as a man but as a function, a specialized piece of equipment calibrated for the specific frequency of sorrow that radiated from the ground beneath my boots. I held the fern in my left hand, its fronds uncurling with a wet,...

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