The weak spot in the ceiling wasn’t there when I moved in. Believe me, I would’ve noticed it. It just appeared, with little parade, benignly, just to the side of my bed, after about three months of living in that apartment. It wasn’t particularly big. I measured it, one day, wobbling on top of my rotating office chair to reach, wielding a ruler. Diameter: around seven centimetres.
Read MoreBut at night, I began to hear them. The sounds seemed distant yet many-faced, resounding into the fields’ black expanse. A thousandfold chorus of owls; an oscillating parade of owls. Their voices produced words in my head that I had never learned before; they took palimpsest in my mind.
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