Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead: A Novel

At that point I felt a surge of Anger, genuine, not to say Divine Anger. It flooded me from inside in a burning-hot wave. This energy made me feel great, as if it were lifting me off the ground, a mini Big Bang within the universe of my body.

and minded their fragile possessions. In this way I relieved them of taking part in the Darkness.

prehensile.

Martens are beautiful Animals. I could have them in my coat of arms, should the need arise.

In all these years I have gathered 1,042 dates of birth and 999 dates of death, and my minor research is still in progress. A project without funding from the European Union. A kitchen table project.

After all, it could just as well not have been. There could have been nothing but grass here—large clumps of wind-lashed steppe grass and the rosettes of thistles. That’s what it could have been like. Or there could have been nothing at all—a total void in outer space. But perhaps that would have been the best option for all concerned.

Oh yes, suddenly I realized what a good thing death can be, how just and fair, like a disinfectant, or a vacuum cleaner. I admit that’s what I thought, and that’s what I still think now.

I believe each of us sees the other Person in our own way, so we should give them the name we consider suitable and fitting. Thus we are polyonymous.

As I gazed at the black-and-white landscape of the Plateau I realized that sorrow is an important word for defining the world. It lies at the foundations of everything, it is the fifth element, the quintessence.