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“Adelmo lost his sense of smell some time ago. When he stopped washing, he became immune to his own odours, and the farts he expels under the blankets at night feel like warm caresses. He is careful to encourage them with a suitable diet.
’Where the fuck are you going? What the fuck are you doing?’ scream the crows, the least willing to leave him in peace.
But Adelmo doesn’t reply.”
― Sneeuw, hond, voet
’Where the fuck are you going? What the fuck are you doing?’ scream the crows, the least willing to leave him in peace.
But Adelmo doesn’t reply.”
― Sneeuw, hond, voet
