Is it a cricket, a refugee, chirping behind solid bars? Rub the legs, hope to see, there is nothing in the darkness. Close the eyes, look closer at the fate, […]
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The Metaworker Literary Magazine
Where great stories are forged
Is it a cricket, a refugee, chirping behind solid bars? Rub the legs, hope to see, there is nothing in the darkness. Close the eyes, look closer at the fate, […]
Read more