Beneath Ceaseless Skies | Parchment Sky by Stephen Case
Size / Zoom In the soft brown of early morning, my brother’s penmanship was always sharp against the rising sky. Other scribes handled their quill-spears with more grace, perhaps. My brother looked as though he was warring with the horizon, the ribbons of ink rising like jagged smoke from the tip of his quill-spear. But what he wrote was clear. Now he has gone. They say that from the cities of the Brittle Terrain, a full day’s journey behind us and away from the horizon, it is difficult to ...
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