It felt as though the whole globe was dressed in snow. Like it has pulled it on, the way you pull on a sweater. Next to the train line, footprints were sunken to their shins. Trees wore blankets of ice. As you may expect, someone has died.

When a person's last response was Saumensch or Saukerl or Arschloch, you knew you had them beaten.

Papa was a man with silver eyes, not dead ones. Papa was an accordion! But his bellows were all empty. Nothing went in and nothing came out.

Outside is dark. The kitchen light is loud. It deafens me as I walk towards it.

She was one if the few souls that made me wonder what's it to live.

It's my heart that is tired. A thirteen-year-old heart shouldn't feel like this.

There were people everywhere on the city street, but the stranger could not have been more alone if it were empty.