ass peeping

<p>“There is no rest for the weary; we’re lost, we drop blindly hour by hour, we who suffer, tossed like water from cheek to cheek, for long years thrown into uncertainty”: such might assuredly be the enchanting <em>Schicksalslied</em> of Anna Jermolaewa’s take on the urban scene in her last book a<em>ss peeping</em> from onestar press. The contemporary reader here finds him/herself confronted with a multitude of rearends that make faces, in the literal sense of Catherine M. (for whom the anatomical center is the ontological center with which communication is immediate and unmediated). This invitation to investigate deeply also pushes us to move forward, to openly follow, without any hope of ever being able to see the other side of the dream decor. So let us dream, but let us also move on. He who follows is surely the foundation of he who leads.</p>