Cut Throat Dog
“Is it winter or summer? she asks.
Which do you prefer? he replies with a question.
Winter, she presses against him and nestles into him, everything covered with snow.
Yes, he says, deep fluffy snow, and the sky resting like a blanket of gray cotton-wool on the mountain tops and the white forests, and a snowy road winds between abandoned log cabins around which big rusty cogwheels are scattered, only their upper halves peeping out of the snow, and coils of steel cable whose wooden spools are sun...k in the snow, and the road disappears into a gaping hole in the mountainside.
An abandoned mine shaft, she says, I like it already. Go on.
Through the opening you can see narrow rails, leading into a tunnel hewn out of the rock, lower than the height of a man and no wider than his outspread arms, and the pale light filtering in through the tunnel entrance soon fades, and the darkness is absolute, and from here on you can only continue by lamplight.
Don’t stop, she requests, and he goes on leading her down the tunnel, and stops for a minute to tell her that the tunnel was quarried by copper miners in the Middle Ages, between five and ten centimeters a day, the traces of their chisels are still etched in the rock—and after ten long minutes of stooped walking in the tunnel you reach a little square, which we’ll call Andreus Square, a square roofed with iron beams supporting its ceiling, and from Andreus Square three new tunnels branch out, the one on the left half full of water, the lake tunnel.MoreLess
Which do you prefer? he replies with a question.
Winter, she presses against him and nestles into him, everything covered with snow.
Yes, he says, deep fluffy snow, and the sky resting like a blanket of gray cotton-wool on the mountain tops and the white forests, and a snowy road winds between abandoned log cabins around which big rusty cogwheels are scattered, only their upper halves peeping out of the snow, and coils of steel cable whose wooden spools are sun...k in the snow, and the road disappears into a gaping hole in the mountainside.
An abandoned mine shaft, she says, I like it already. Go on.
Through the opening you can see narrow rails, leading into a tunnel hewn out of the rock, lower than the height of a man and no wider than his outspread arms, and the pale light filtering in through the tunnel entrance soon fades, and the darkness is absolute, and from here on you can only continue by lamplight.
Don’t stop, she requests, and he goes on leading her down the tunnel, and stops for a minute to tell her that the tunnel was quarried by copper miners in the Middle Ages, between five and ten centimeters a day, the traces of their chisels are still etched in the rock—and after ten long minutes of stooped walking in the tunnel you reach a little square, which we’ll call Andreus Square, a square roofed with iron beams supporting its ceiling, and from Andreus Square three new tunnels branch out, the one on the left half full of water, the lake tunnel.MoreLess
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