The Pale Banner
Could a man who had spent twenty years chasing the weight of stone ever learn to let it fall? I Nikola Ionescu stood in the rotunda of the Pale Banner, the air thick with the thaw smell of earth and diesel that seeped up from the cracked flagstones. He was forty years old, an exile in a land that did not know his name, and his hands were raw from the chisel. The central pillar before him was a...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews