All the Light We Cannot See

by Anthony Doerr

Radio: it ties a million ears to a single mouth. Out of loudspeakers all around Zollverein, the staccato voice of the Reich grows like some imperturbable tree; its subjects lean toward its branches as if toward the lips of God. And when God stops whispering, they become desperate for someone who can put things right.

What was the phrase? Like stars flung off the brows of archangels.

He sees circuits break apart and re-form. He sees Frederick staring into his book of birds; he sees the furor of the mines at Zollverein, the shunting cars, the banging locks, the trundling conveyors, smokestacks silting the sky day and night; he sees Jutta slashing back and forth with a lit torch as darkness encroaches from all sides.

Open your eyes and see what you can with them before they close forever.

Silence is the fruit of the occupation; it hangs in branches, seeps from gutters.