Bokelskere.no

The dead were everywhere, in the air, in the rubble, on rooftops nearby, in the breezes that carried from the river. They were settled in the ash and drizzled on windows all along the streets, in his hair and on his clothes.

What you see is not what wee se. What you see is distracted by memory, by being who you are, all this time, for all these years.

He knew time and day of week and wondered when such scraps of data would begin to feel disposable.