Wednesday, January 11, 2012


I knew that skeletons were not devoid or absent of life, but were merely something more than sleeping, for around the corpse of any animal recently died or at any cemetery the air was heavy with souls waiting to repossess their bodies. I knew that Leap Day was just hiding in the cusp of midnight on the years when it didn't happen, and I knew those missing days were waiting for me, making plans of their own. I knew the shadows of buildings could move, that walls were flexible and not solid, but I didn't know that I knew any of these things, until so very many years later, so many keys gathered and lost in the twilight of childhood.
The other city : a novel / Michal Ajvaz

walks through woods, the crunch of ice underfoot