The Wistful Crossroads
Act I The silk town of Konya breathed out its industry in a slow, rhythmic exhalation, the looms of the quarter clattering in a dry, wooden percussion that vibrated through the cobblestones and up into the soles of the shoes of every man and woman walking the narrow streets. It was a sound that had no beginning or end, a mechanical heartbeat that kept the debt collectors honest and the families...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews