The Golden Crossing
Act I The sardine boats rocked against the pilings of Saint-Malo, their hulls scraping the salt-crusted stone in a rhythm that mimicked the grinding of the mill race below the quay, while the full moon hung low and swollen over the terraced vines that had gone bankrupt years ago. In the scriptorium of the Abbey, a space that smelled of damp wool and iron gall ink, Baptiste Noel woke with the...
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