October 7

“October the 7th crumpled the soul, and nature became indistinguishable from the body.” On October the 7th, grief thickened over the desert and poured out in an endless stream. Deep within that flow, relentless time carries Ivan Glukhov and his loved ones. Glukhov wanders in his mind again and again through the streets and side alleys of his recent past, until the frozen present turns into a universal, sticky, unknowable haze. Glukhov can’t afford to stop—he vitally needs to float out and survive: the current separated him from the dearest person in the world, and he must find them.