The Faded Alibi
March 14, 1998 The ivy has finally breached the foundation, its black tendrils gripping the limestone like the fingers of a drowning man, a slow and silent siege that mirrors the suffocating weight of the local militia’s surveillance which has, for the first time in twenty years, begun to crack the security of my home. I am thirty-four years old, an archivist of dust and decay, and I am...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima