Chapter 65 · for subscribers
Nineteen sixty-nine. Cut out of a temple at night by a boy with her kitchen knife, sold to the furthest buyer she could find, hung over a dining room for six years, and driven back up this river at first light by the woman who paid a fortune for it. Four days ago it was the most expensive page in the province. This morning it was simply my grandmother, before her eyes went.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.