W.G. Sebald

“The seasons and the years came and went...and always...one was, as the crow flies, about 2,000 km away - but from where? - and day by day hour by hour, with every beat of the pulse, one lost more and more of one's qualities, became less comprehensible to oneself, increasingly abstract.”


W.G. Sebald, The Emigrants
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The Emigrants The Emigrants by W.G. Sebald
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