The Whispering Canals of Bruges • Sleep Stories for Adults
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The afternoon is fading into evening when you first see the spires of Bruges rising above the flat Belgian landscape, their Gothic points reaching toward a sky that is beginning to show the first hints of twilight colors. The train has been carrying you through fields and small villages for the past hour, each one looking like it stepped out of a Bruegel painting, and now it slows as it approaches the station, the rhythm of wheels on tracks changing, becoming more deliberate, more measured, as if the train itself is preparing to enter a place where time moves differently.
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