When they said he didn’t exist, he couldn’t die of grief, so he had to be born. He’s already out there living somewhere; he blinks his little eyes an… - Wisława Szymborska

And how can we talk of order overall when the very placement of the stars leaves us doubting just what shines for whom?<p>Not to speak of the fog's reprehensible drifting! And dust blowing all over the steppes as if they hadn't been partitioned! And the voices coasting on obliging airwaves, that conspiratorial squeaking, those indecipherable mutters! Only what is human can truly be foreign.

I lost a few goddesses while moving south to north and also some gods while moving east to west.

History didn’t greet us with triumphal fanfares: — it flung dirty sand into our eyes. Ahead of us lay long roads leading nowhere, poisoned wells and bitter bread.