Literally Speaking

[blue_hours_too]

He heads south into the fog. The world swirls in around him, and his mind begins to leak and stretch and give - gusts of fog like the breath of some great god bank each side of the road-- and in the whiteness of his own breath mixing with the cold dense air, he can see the things that used to be: his boyhood on Nomans Land, the stiff green light

Comments

[thelongerhours]

hey, you did it! good to see you here, feel free to add me.

[blue_hours_too]

*Waves* I did, thanks. :)