SPECTRES OF
BELLES LETTRES
It was all washed and cleaned -
words pressed like cloth in a Victorian
suitcase. A solitary black raven had
settled down, already quite comfortable,
on its writing-room perch.
BELLES LETTRES
It was all washed and cleaned -
words pressed like cloth in a Victorian
suitcase. A solitary black raven had
settled down, already quite comfortable,
on its writing-room perch.
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