The Blue Mountain
Meir Shalev
1988
Even after the crowd had dispersed, I couldn’t bring myself to leave the Tsirkin farm. The longer I stood watching, the more stagnant the clear water grew, forming a green nightmare of slime before my eyes. Lured from their lairs by the odor of legend and doubt, sedge and loosestrife sprouted alongside great snails that had waited all their lives…
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