Photo: Margarita del Carmen.

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Grey hills in the landscape shape themselves like wrinkled skin. A clenched surface, squirming and twisting like a big cloth. Lost to this world it lies desolate – a body dying and full of pain. The birds never really land here – as if something awful is passed on by touch. Here and there lie organs like crystals of memories misplaced in a forgetful mind. 

Les mer «Kristian Byskov / What world to come back to» →