Another fascinating tale from the mind of Tallis and pen of Jim.
I dislike clichés, indeed as a poet I’m traditionally supposed to either shun them entirely, or if of a romantic disposition, write in little else. But one cliché that does seem to ring true is the saying, ‘It’s a funny old world.’ What brought this to mind was seeing Etan Stor yesterday.
I remember Etan when he was a lot younger and he’d just arrived in Port Naain. He was just some peasant child who’d run away from home and a lifetime of drudgery and early marriage; with only premature aging to look forward to. All he had were the clothes he stood up in and a working dog called Gyp. Etan was young, slim, with long hair and pretty features. Gyp was also distinguished in her own way. The pair of them had been together for a long time, having been born in the same month, and they had…
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