A lamentation in the style of the Celestials

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From: A Storied Life

There was something beautiful. But without the warmth of the Surface, the love was never going to flourish.


If only, if only

Love flourishes in the sunlight. It blooms in sleepy, tangled mornings. […] Later, you discover the Illustrated Composer's notebook […] a sketch of you, and a verbatim transcript of your words, circled thrice. What is going on?

[Find the rest of the story at https://www.fallenlondon.com]