The Distant Temple
Ji-ho Lim stood before the salt pans, the grey water of the Heian coast stretching out to a horizon that seemed to dissolve into the sideways rain, and he remembered the dream with the clarity of a wound reopened by cold air. In the dream, the temple was always distant, a white shape against a dark cliff, and he was always walking toward it, his boots sinking into mud that held his weight with...
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