“The Mountains of Oblivion grew higher at the horizon with every passing hour, and ironically, they might have been the only thing that one couldn’t forget in this desert made of snow. / The leaves and branches slapped him, scratching his skin with raw nails and, where he was covered with oiled leather or rusting metal, sliding off him. / The spotlight revealed the crusted brown walls of the extensive sewage system, and the sparkling trickle running down like the sweat of a living, breathing being.”

Published in: Three Crows Magazine, issue 6 (March 2020)

Experimental, German, Short Fiction

Publication Date: 22. March 2020

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