The Pale Garden

added blog Literature

2026-08-23 14:33:21 -

The Pale Garden

14 October 1893 My hands will not stop shaking. The ink blots on the page like a wound that refuses to clot, and I find myself staring at the tremor in my fingers as if it were a foreign object, a parasite lodged in the tendon, yet I know it is only the beginning of the decay that is eating me from the inside out. I am writing to you, my brother, because I can no longer trust my own voice, nor...

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