ackroyd-tower

March 7, 2025

He stood beneath the white tower, and looked up at it with that mournful expression which his face always carried in repose: for one moment he thought of climbing up its cracked and broken stone, and then from its summit screaming down at the silent city as a child might scream at a chained animal.

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Thought:

“Though the genre can suggest what you might need, it can never do the work for you.”

Samuel R. Delany | A, B, C

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