The Faded Frequency
Act I The Roman suburbs breathe in a rhythm of diesel and damp, a long, grey exhalation that moves from the industrial parks of the north down to the quiet, rain-slicked streets of the south, where the houses stand like tired soldiers in the mist, their windows glowing with the low, amber heat of radiators that knock and clatter against the silence of the early morning, a sound that is less a...
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