The Faded River
You dream of water, not the clear, cold rush of a mountain spring, but a thick, silty current that moves with the sluggish, inevitable pace of a clogged drain. In the dream, you are standing in a room with no windows, the walls sweating condensation that smells of ozone and decaying lignin, and the floor is trembling with a low-frequency hum that vibrates in your teeth. You wake in your desk...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare