The sky takes on a pearly, almost azure hue; a kind of peace descends from it. You might mistake it for hope. …. They thought they had gone far enough into the inclement North to be forgotten. They were only half right, but what could they do? However far you flee, your grandchildren will have to flee one day in their turn.
An exploration of the value of community and the inevitability of community in one form or the other when repression is a form of politics, silence doesn't necessarily ensure survival, the civil services are co-opted to realise totalitarianism, and consensual communalism can be subverted by a snitch. All this against the background of nature, relatively constant, while humans are doomed to repeat their mistakes.