pass by the day the shells stop and see the priest (he’d shown courage in the last months, leading the funerals to the graveyard): he is moving a large silver cross out of the way of the weather and thieves. In the street a dog stands on a low roof and barks at the heads of passers-by. The smell of scorched brick and dust mixes with the odour of oleander. For twenty minutes I help the priest shift rubble and broken statues, then I walk through Gost as I haven’t for weeks. Over the days that follow memorial notices are posted on telegraph poles and lamp posts throughout Gost, so that the poles
...more
Something about the writing on this page jumped out as more arresting than other pages. I would say it’s the sensory experience, but the author does an excellent job through the book, especially with smell.
