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“Truths, yes. One after another, one boulder settling down, then another. And another. Blotting out the light, darkness closing in, grit and sand sifting down, a solid silence when the last one is in place. Now, dear fool, try drawing a single breath. A single breath. There were clouds closed fast round the moon. And one by one, gardens died.” — Steven Erikson
Truths, yes. One after another, one boulder settling down, then another. And another. Blotting out the light, darkness closing in, grit and sand sifting down, a solid silence when the last one is in place. Now, dear fool, try drawing a single breath. A single breath.
There were clouds closed fast round the moon. And one by one, gardens died.