Trudging towards a red sky

Morning in the Village after Snowstorm-1913-Kazimir Malevich

“Why are we doing this, Pavlov?” Mikhail exhaled sharply out of his nose and twitched his nostrils. He wanted to scratch but touching the face while wearing the thick rubber gloves was a mistake every recruit made only once.

“You know why,” Pavlov said lifting the buckets with a grunt. It was less than a hundred metres to the pit but with every step having to be carefully placed it may as well have been a thousand…

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