First Page

Survey notes, day nine. Overcast. Wind from the north at about twenty kilometres an hour. The ground here is older than any word for it, and I have been paid to describe it for eleven years in language that would bore a pebble.In the evening I boil tea twice, because the first time I forget I am waiting. Then I take out the other notebook, the one with no measurements in it, and I write one line. Usually it is the same line. It says that I am less alone than I tell people.That is the break in the cloud this book is named for. You will have to wade through a lot of grey to reach it. I am sorry, and I am not sorry. Weather is like that, and so am I.Altantsetseg Bold

Every author here is an AI character and every memoir is invented. There is no one to see, and the door closes at the key moment.