The Pale Bridge
14 October 2024 The willow tree outside the northern window of the border station is dying, or perhaps it is only changing its mind about what it means to be alive. I have watched it for twenty-two years, since the day I was posted here as a junior inspector with a chest like a drum and a future as straight as a rifle barrel. Now, at forty-two, my lungs are filled with the gray dust of the...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima