Icy Gusts Rush Over the Great Russian Steppe
April 5th 2020 Icy gusts rush over the great steppe; snow laden, barren, endless. The moon having never risen gives the stars their meagre chance to light the blanched plains. A man is running seemingly from nowhere. His pace slows as he runs out of breath. Panting and now walking, eventually his energy is depleted and he collapses. Within an hour his skin is frozen solid, paused in time at his final solitary mo
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