Title: Valgfritt

Text: I slept and saw God's forge in frost. Its hearth was quelled, and as it cooled so swooned the verdancy it kept above. In slumber it grew a thick winter skin, white as bedsheets. In their folds the waker dreamt, her breath as steam, her touch as hot as iron, forgotten in the fire. Oh, that this too too solid flesh would thaw, melt, and resolve itself into a dew! Hver avsnitt vil være en test.

Save test: Bruk dette hvis du vil dele denne skrivetesten (kun for godkjente brukere).