The Faded Road
October 14, 1893 Julian, I am writing this because my hands will not stop shaking, and because if I speak aloud, I fear I will scream. I have lost the thread. For three weeks, the Faded Road has appeared in my dreams, a spectral ribbon of grey stone that shifts and erodes before I can trace its edges. It is not a metaphor. It is a cartographic error that has bled into the fabric of my mind. I...
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