“You know, Herr Schleier? It shimmered a pale blue, the ice did. And the sky, so black, a darkness undisturbed, so very strange, inhuman. Takes a deep shuddering breath, says, And amongst it, stars. So many stars, Franz says. Gulps down hot chocolate, Adam’s apple bobbing up. So many stars. And each and every one is a sum, hiding multiple planets, worlds. War on each one, perhaps. He laughs.”
Book:The Violent Century