“I wished to find the boy, so pure of soul, who had opened these cells to bring the hermits just enough food and drink to keep them alive.
But I couldn't find the boy. I couldn't. And I felt only a raging pity for him that he had ever suffered here, thin and miserable, and desperate, and ignorant, oh, so terribly ignorant, having but one sensuous joy in life and that was to see the colors of the ikon catch fire.”
— Mar 17, 2026 08:20PM
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