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‘We were run out of there like dogs. I swallowed so much dust I’ve been crapping bricks ever since.’

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Daniel Benchimol collected stories of disappearances in Angola. All kinds of disappearances, though he preferred those of the air. It’s always more interesting being snatched away by the heavens, like Jesus Christ or his mother, than being swallowed up by the earth.

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The days slide by as if they were liquid. I have no more notebooks to write in. I have no more pens either. I write on the walls, with pieces of charcoal, brief lines. I save on food, on water, on fire and on adjectives.

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Vanja SolemdalVannflaskeNicolai Alexander StyveNeraIngunn SAnniken BjørnesAlice NordliMarenAvaAndreaEmil ChristiansenKirsten LundIngeborg GSverrePirelliTerje Mathiseningar hDolly DuckFrode Øglænd  MalminsomniferumTove Obrestad WøienHilde H HelsethVibekebrekLars MæhlumHeidi HoltanMarianne  SkageKaramasov11Oda Marie HIreneleserBeathe SolbergDemeterMartinEllen E. MartolTatiana WesserlingSiv ÅrdalSolCarine OlsrødBjørg  FrøysaaTrygve Jakobsen