Martin Hooijmans | Lars de Ruyter
It was the first he had seen in months. Climber’s ropes from times long past lead up the rock face, disappearing in the exit he had sought so long.
He could not remember a world beyond the cave. Could not remember life. It frightened him.
His hands closed around the rope. It felt damp and weathered. It might not support his weight. Still, he climbed.
Frightened or not, he would face what lay ahead.
A coffee plants a tree
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