Sublime

“The town at the mercy of a deep loneliness during the day and, come night, of large cats. There’s a beautiful river running through it, and an old stone bridge spanning the river. But it’s not where we should stay.”

that to live without forgiveness was a kind of death with breathing and movement.

raison d’être

He was beautiful, the old man remembered, and he had stayed. That was the saddest thing I ever saw with them, the old man thought. The boy was sad too and we begged her pardon and butchered her promptly.

enigmatic

the repetitions and rhythms that suffocated him little by little, but never fast enough.

lugubrious

semaphore,