You see, you kill the whales, but they’re too big to bring on board so you have to string them behind the boat. You could see them there, one after another strung out behind you. The trout line of the Gods, I called it. You pull into a little fjord, drop anchor, pull the line ashore until you can stand knee deep in the water. And you slaughter them right there in the shallows. Strip the sheets of blubber away. The blood fills up the entire fjord, the water turns pale pink.
And there I was one day, knee deep in the frigid bloodstained water, a trail of red poured out into the ocean, glaciers lumbering back and fourth and I suddenly realized, I can never leave. I was driven to the end of the world, and it captured me.
Oblivion. Nothingness. It calls to me every day.
