I can't really remember the days. The light of the sun blurred and annihilated all colors. But the nights, I remember them. The blue was more distant than the sky, beyond all depths, covering the bounds of the world. The sky, for me, was the stretched of pure brilliance crossing the blue, that cold coalescence beyond all colors. The lights fell from the sky in cataracts of pure transparency, in torrents of silence and immobility. The air was blue, you can hold it in your hand. Blue. The sky was the continual throbbing of the brilliance of the lights. The night lit up everything, all the country on either bank of river as far as the eye could reach. Every night was different, each one had a name as long as it lasted. Their sound was that of the dogs, the country dogs baying at mystery. They answered one another, from village to village, until the time and space of the night were utterly consumed.
(translated by Barbara Bray)
(translated by Barbara Bray)
