The Pale Echo
Prague in 1912 did not sleep, it merely changed the angle of its lamplight, the gas hissing in the vents of the small trades while the river carried the silt of a hundred industries toward the sea. I stood in the office at ninety-six of Candlewick Row, watching the brass-framed mirror that hung above the ledger desk, and for the first time in four years, my reflection did not move when I did....
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen