Welcome, ghosts - by Simon Sarris - The Map is Mostly Water

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There are in this world certain lonely places: The mountaintop when a storm begins, a long drive under the obscurity of night, the unfinished attic of an old house as a child, the empty alley of an otherwise busy city. In the prolonged absence of others, our senses both sharpen and dilute.

Lost in my dreams, I somehow cross at the traffic signals, bumping into street lamps or people, yet moving onward, exuding fumes of beer and grime, yet smiling, because my briefcase is full of books and that very night I expect them to tell me things about myself I do not know. — Bohumil Hrabal previously We are still in the quiet corner of the pub. We watch the waiter return and leave in silence. Do you know why we are here, and not elsewhere? There are in this world certain lonely places: The mountaintop when a storm begins, a long drive under the obscurity of night, the unfinished…

Welcome, ghosts - by Simon Sarris - The Map is Mostly Water

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