'Now I will try to keep awake. The Fog. They must have come for me before morning. Empty streets. Across a dimly lit room. She lay in the shadows. The steps. One at a time. Not that i'm old. It was the mask. Plaster chipped off the walls. She lay asleep on a couch. A network of cracks and branding veins like the surface of an antique painting. Chiaroscuro. Figures half formed.'
The Beak Doctor - Eric Basso
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