The Wistful Letter
14 November 1893 The wisteria is back. It has torn through the mortar of the cellar wall, a pale, muscular thing that looks less like a plant and more like a vein exposed by a surgeon’s careless hand. I am sitting in the cramped office of the Ministry of Antiquities, the gaslight hissing above me, and I can smell the damp earth clinging to my fingers even though I have scrubbed them raw. Lord...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews