Prose of The Day

 "And the esplanades suddenly seemed to him replete with cadavers, placid cadavers awaiting some kind of resurrection, cadavers that talked and drank, leaned toward one another, moved away, told the dead lottery vendor no as he tried to foist the dream from table to table forgetting that the deceased do not dream, that they detest the dream, the plans, the future that has excluded them, that they hate what they do not know, what they do not command, what escapes the narrowness of their understanding, and they remain stubbornly seated in old waiting rooms, contemplating each other in silence, with cups of nothing on their knees."

Excerpt from Knowledge of Hell by António Lobo Antunes.