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“The labyrinth was dirty, constricting. The smell of wet and rotted vines littered the air, making his tentative hands twitch and curl with desperation. How he wished to be free again! To feel the glaciers melt into springs and witness the stars turn themselves over and over again under his fingertips.” — Grace Curley
The labyrinth was dirty, constricting. The smell of wet and rotted vines littered the air, making his tentative hands twitch and curl
with desperation. How he wished to be free again! To feel the glaciers melt into springs and witness the stars turn themselves
over and over again under his fingertips.