the island had a feel to it, wild, unmoored from reality, an oasis of otherness. It was there in the breeze drifting off the loch soft as moth wings murmuring secrets to a flame, there in the breathing tightness that wrapped around her like cobwebs, there in the unnatural silence that hushed birdsong. It felt like hallowed ground steeped in human tragedy.
— Sep 05, 2025 02:25PM
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