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Eighty Two Nineteen
Antarctica
1959
A split of light above the horizon, a thin line of atomic white behind the mountains, signals another polar dawn. It weaves and bleeds its way upwards through the cracks in the clouds like hot metal, but it brings no warmth. For five days and nights the sun has never truly set, it is perpetually dipping and rising, dipping and rising, a slow wave which mocks him and which he thinks will slowly drive him mad. Hello, he waves at the sun, hello again, hello. He knows he is also talking to himself. Hello Peter, hello. You are still here. You lived. You exist. And if you want this to continue to be true, you had better keep walking.
1959
A split of light above the horizon, a thin line of atomic white behind the mountains, signals another polar dawn. It weaves and bleeds its way upwards through the cracks in the clouds like hot metal, but it brings no warmth. For five days and nights the sun has never truly set, it is perpetually dipping and rising, dipping and rising, a slow wave which mocks him and which he thinks will slowly drive him mad. Hello, he waves at the sun, hello again, hello. He knows he is also talking to himself. Hello Peter, hello. You are still here. You lived. You exist. And if you want this to continue to be true, you had better keep walking.
170 pages, Paperback
First published November 2, 2016
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