The Wistful Witness

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 13:46:23 -

The dream was always the same, a recurring architecture of grey stone and fog that I could not escape. I stood on a narrow path, the kind that divides a cultivated field from the wild, unclaimed moor, and at the edge of my vision, just where the light failed, stood a figure in a coat the color of ash. He did not look at me; he simply waited, a silent boundary between what I knew and what I...

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