Hans Rustad Free of memory and of hope, limitless, abstract, almost future, the dead man is not a dead man: he is death. Like the God of the mystics, of Whom anything that could be said must be denied, the dead one, alien everywhere, is but the ruin and absence of the world. We rob him of […]
Bli abonnent eller logg inn – hvis du allerede er abonnent – for å lese denne artikkelen. Pluss-artikler blir frigitt 24 timer etter publisering. Artikler som er eldre enn to år er forbeholdt abonnenter.
