Chapter 170

The dome protects the place from the snow, so the castle seems almost ethereal, the white flocks surrounding it yet none touching its grounds, and it even seems a little bit warmer here, with the same isolating effect happening with the wind and the smells, keeping in an ethereal staleness.

What has been made appealing to the eyes is sour to the nose, like a too still swamp lake, with the impossible lurking inside its dark waters, prompting to have anything inside the close up space.

Like the saying goes, just as iron rusts from disuse and stagnant water putrefies, so does our intellect waste unless it is kept in use.

Something so stale that even the sound can't reach, that has been my mother's home for years, and if I didn't have a good premonition about this this quiet place without birds to chirp gives me a dreadful chill.