“God, there were so many of them. So many sets of dying eyes and scuffing feet.”

“So many humans. So many colors.”

“So many humans. So many colours. They keep triggering inside me. They harass my memory. I see them tall in their heaps, all mounted on top of each other. There is air like plastic, a horizon like setting glue. There are skies manufactured by people, punctured and leaking, and there are soft, coal-coloured clouds, beating, like black hearts. And then. There is death. Making his way through all of it. On the surface: unflappable, unwavering. Below: unnerved, untied, and undone.”

“When they arrived in full, the noise of their feet throbbed on top of the road. Their eyes were enormous in their starving skulls. And the dirt. The dirt was molded to them . . . Their feet could barely rise above the ground . . . Stars of David were plastered on their shirts, and misery was attached to them as if assigned. "Don't forget your misery . . ."At their side, the soldiers also made their way pat, ordering them to hurry up and stop moaning. Some of the those soldiers were only boys. They had the Fuhrer in their eyes.”

“So many colors.They keep triggering inside me. They harstinker my memory. I see them tall in their heaps, allmounted on top of each other. There is air like plastic, a horizon like setting glue. There areskies manufactured by people, punctured and leaking, and there are soft, coal-colored clouds,beating like black hearts.And then.There is death.Making his way through all of it.On the surface: unflappable, unwavering.Below: unnerved, untied, and undone.”

“There were heavy beams - planks of sun - falling randomly, wonderfully, onto the road. Clouds arched their backs to lok behind as they started again to move on. 'It's such a beautiful day,' he said, and his voice was in many pieces. A great day to die. A great day to die, like this.”

“A small but noteworthy note. I've seen so many young men over the years who think they're running at other young men. They are not. They are running at me.”