“From the moment his bullet struck the first Englishman, from the moment my Bombe decrypted the first message from the North African Corps... Every dead man's headstone became a love letter between us. The combined width of those headstones was the distance between us, too long, too far. The blood of German soldiers and the tears of British mothers flowed together into a mighty river... There was no crossing it. All we could do was burn it down...”
Wildflowers bloom brightly before Betty of Portsmouth's grave. The general and the child still linger in their longing. But what of the love between those two young men by the coast at Koserich, like men strangled to death in the dark of night? Where is its gravestone?
Only the nightingale sings its sorrowful song in the darkness.
It's such a pity that this article was not written down. The author's writing style and story structure are top-notch among online articles. His use of language has reached a superb level. It's such a pity that it was a scam. I still want to read the protagonist's beautiful sadomasochism.
Why don't you finish it? It's very beautiful. Is it the empty lamp's vest?