Tower of Mud and Straw III: The Tulips – Yaroslav Barsukov
In silence, as though overcome with modesty, the doctor hid his instruments and rolled them into a piece of black velvet.
Beautifully written fantasy
In silence, as though overcome with modesty, the doctor hid his instruments and rolled them into a piece of black velvet.
Simona’s view of the modern city dropped away as the cable car rose toward Città Alta.
There’d been a time, a couple of years ago, that Bobby’s Diner would be jam-packed during the noon hour.
The hammer fell in an arrhythmic pulse, like an old man’s heart, skipping a punch each time the chisel it hit dropped another inch into the device.
I never cared much about cars as a kid—never cared much about anything Dad liked.