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east of the sun, west of the moon

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Once upon a time, there's a boy who turns into stone. The stone cracks, tiny fissures running through its surface like transparent veins on luminescent black skin, and it's as if the boy is about to come alive again and not fall apart.

He breaks with the sound of ice cracking at the end of winter, of a mirror shattering. Falls on the ground like shadows of leaves, and the wind lifts him, all his pieces, and like a careless child scatters him to all the corners of the world.