The Pale Bonsai
The pale bonsai sits on the mahogany desk, its roots exposed and white as bone, a grotesque parody of the lush greenery that once defined this estate, and I watch it with the detached curiosity of a man who has already lost the war but has not yet signed the peace treaty. I am forty-two years old, an architect who fled the collapse of his home country’s infrastructure to build the skeletons of...
0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 1 Views 0 önizleme