Crambe repetita (30)
A redemption that smelled of peat smoke, of cabbage soup, of the wind tangled in the forest undergrowth. A redemption that smelled of mirror, thought young Reiter, nearly choking on his bread.
– Roberto Bolaño (2666, p. 654)
ego hoc feci mm–MMXXI · cc 2000–2021 M.F.C.