The Distant Temple
Act I Giorgos Zafeiriou, forty-two years old and owing three years’ wages to a Ministry that paid in promises, woke with the taste of copper in his mouth. The dream had been simple: a temple of white stone collapsing into the black soil, the dust rising not as powder but as a solid wall that pushed him back, forcing him to accept that the structure was not his to hold. He sat up in the narrow...
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