We use cookies
When you visit our website, if you give your consent, we will use cookies to allow us to collect data for aggregated statistics to improve our service and remember your choice for future visits. Cookie Policy & Privacy Policy
Dear Reader, we use the permissions associated with cookies to keep our website running smoothly and to provide you with personalized content that better meets your needs and ensure the best reading experience. At any time, you can change your permissions for the cookie settings below.
If you would like to learn more about our Cookie, you can click on Privacy Policy.
Your cookies settings
Strictly cookie settingsAlways Active
Chapter 39-2
I set aside a chipped crock without a lid. Maybe somebody can still use it to store some dried goods? Here's a bit of cloth. Perhaps it could repair a ripped shawl? And here's a clay tablet upon which has been etched a woman's face. Once upon a time these things meant something to somebody. Maybe, within this rubble, there is something somebody wishes to remember? My vision grows blurry, that ache which lives in my chest more crushing than at any time since I woke up. Why do I stand here, weeping, over a broken wall that nobody cares to fix? My hand tingles as I dig a small, wooden statue out of the rubble. Carved from a piece of cedar-wood, the crude doll resembles a boy wearing a pair of modern trousers. Out of his back springs a single wing. The other one is missing. I dig through the
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD
