Lágrimas de Caronte


       «The hours passed. It wasn’t in the morning. It was not in the afternoon. There was no more night. The only thing that was there were those drowned bodies that the sea kept pushing towards us, you, me and the rest of the island. And we dragged them to the beach, at the end there was no longer a single pebble, because it had become an immense open-air cemetery, a burning and cold chapel, and there we were, the inhabitants of the island, of this island, the only one inhabited in the entire Dog Archipelago, inhabited by miserable, ridiculous, old, selfish, desperate and tearful people ».

Philippe Claudel. The archipelago of the dog.

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