" "The whitish light stretches across the moor..."
These simple words, the guttural sound of Tristan's voice, chilled our bones. Anxiety gripped our throats and our breathing became longer, slower and more painful.
"Charles K., as he did every evening for the last twenty years, goes out with his dog and head for the dune. It's a cool evening, with an icy breeze when the dune offers no protection. It's past 11.30pm, an unusual hour for Charles, who prefers to go to bed early to enjoy his morning. But tonight, without understanding why, he had stayed up late and had finally decided to take his Newfoundland out. "