Now it’s cold, a fence and then the crater. Is it smoke? Is it fog? It’s scary and charming. I can barely breathe, maybe because of the height, maybe I’m tired. Rest. I’m going down to join him, I’m more healthy than you. Have you ever kissed someone on the edge of the abyss? A reportage by Martine Eshuis.
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And all the hard words I ever feared to say can now be said. A story about fog and hollows by Ulrike Biets.