The Distant Summer

added blog Literature

2026-08-24 07:23:57 -

The dream is always the same. A white moth, wings spread wide, trapped inside a pane of glass. It beats its wings against the invisible barrier, a soft, frantic tapping that sounds exactly like the shuttle of the loom striking the reed. I wake with my hands clenched, my knuckles white, the smell of coal dust and machine oil still clinging to my skin. It is November, 1912. The air in the...

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