A review by sriq
A Mountain to the North, a Lake to the South, Paths to the West, a River to the East by László Krasznahorkai, Adán Kovacsics Meszaros

"two roofs placed one above the other as if there had a moment in which, at its beginning and at its end, two enormous autumn leaves, slightly singed at the edges, were descending, one after the other, and only one of them had arrived, but truly had arrived,"

"namely that they were so close to existence that they had become identical with it, and existence can never be seen, so that, well, if they were here even when they were not here, nothing ever remained of them, only the yearning for them to come, only the fear that they would come, only the memory that they had been here"

"because precisely on the other side of the boundary of silence and yet decisively audible, the flooring creaked once in that spot precisely where its suspension was a bit more uncertain, because there, the walk-way planking creaked, repeating and evoking once again the single weight of a former footstep, the certainty of a memory that someone had once tread here."

"and such a person can do this by taking the next step, and imagining, in his mind's eye, every single object upon which something can be written"