The Pale Bonsai

added blog Literature

2026-08-24 03:57:29 -

The Pale Bonsai

The dream is always the same. I am standing in a sterile room, and my left hand has ceased to be a hand. It is a gnarled, pale trunk of a bonsai tree, stripped of bark, the wood white as bone, roots digging into the concrete floor of the cell. I try to move the fingers, but they are rigid branches, brittle and dry. I wake with the sensation of that dryness still clinging to my skin, the phantom...

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