Cormac McCarthy. Road (№ 449804)

There used to be trout in the mountain river. It was seen how the fish stand in the amber water, and the current slowly shakes their fins with trembling white edges. The fish left the smell of mud on their hands. Smooth, muscular, tense. On the backs - intricate patterns. Maps of the emerging world. Maps and intricate labyrinths. That which cannot be brought back. And never fix it. In the deep depressions where the fish hid, everything breathed antiquity and taiga. And humanity was just taking its first steps...