every seam and wrinkle on his face seemed to be steadily sliding towards the ground, as though he’d been shaped by a slightly drunk god who’d pressed the mortal clay just a little too far down.
“Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;
I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.”
― Twilight Hours: A Legacy of Verse
I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.”
― Twilight Hours: A Legacy of Verse
Lucien’s 2025 Year in Books
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