Next to a highway at night. Greetings from clandestinity, year 9.
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"It is dark, large stones lie scattered on the fresh asphalt. Next to the new lane that is being built here, a highway stretches into the infinite black of night. The air smells of summer and instead of noisy hustle and bustle, there is only timeless silence. I often come here to this construction site, … Continue reading
The Baron of Old Bay
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