Trafika Europe 5 - Slovenian Interlude

but a child jumps on the kitchen counter from the corner of the eye and the salt almost gets spilled.

I am dragging these things from deep oblivion, from the edge of dissolution. It is like salting a still twitching fish. Maybe what matters at the bottom is this gentle dark in which it is perfectly natural to let all the times of life sleep, alternations of cold and warm currents.



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