The Golden Farce

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2026-08-24 00:03:21 -

The Golden Farce

The oak tree did not bleed when the saw bit into its bark. It simply closed. I watched the steel teeth sink into the pale, fibrous wood, expecting the familiar spray of sap, the groan of fibers tearing, the heavy drop of a limb. Instead, the cut surface knit together with a speed that defied logic, the wound sealing shut as if the tree were alive in a way that transcended botany. My hired crew,...

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