The architecture of the Minotaur's heart is ancient. Rough hewn and many chambered, his heart is a plodding laborious thing, built for churning through the millennia. But the blood it pumps—the blood it has pumped for nearly five thousand years, the blood it will pump for the rest of his life—is nearly human blood. It carries with it, through his monster's veins, the weighty, necessary, terrible stuff of human existence: fear, wonder, hope, wickedness, love. But in the Minotaur's world it is far easier to kill and devour seven virgins year after year, their rattling bones rising at his feet like a sea of cracked ice, than to accept tenderness and return it.

Godt sagt! (2) Varsle Svar

Sist sett

VannflaskeHarald KKirsten LundHildeHeidi HoltanEster SAnne-Stine Ruud HusevågToveNicolai Alexander StyveTone Maria JonassenSilje HvalstadIngeborg GJohn LarsenKristin_Sigrid Blytt TøsdalEirin EftevandHilde Merete GjessingHilde H HelsethIngunn SsiljehusmorTove Obrestad WøienAgnesJoakimVibekeLene AndresenDaffy EnglundKorianderBjørg L.Aud Merete RambølAstrid Terese Bjorland SkjeggerudElisabeth SveeStein KippersundEli HagelundNinaMorten JensenalpakkaEirik RøkkumPiippokattaBeathe SolbergSigmund