Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter at all.

“…
If a person sits long enough in a cafe, the fear settles down and waits.
And the next day it’s already right there at the same table.


You don’t understand how your own heart beats inside you. Inside the hare beats the heart of the earth, that’s why we are Gypsies, because we understand that, sir,
that’s why we’re always on the run.”

– in “the fox was ever hunter” by Herta Müller –

I’m not the fan of the political novel, but her clean prose is just too beautiful and extraordinary to pass… like the poem… I have to read again and again, and again.