"<p>I carved the cross above the lake and stuck it to the head of the grave. That there would be a trace of God even there, if he had already been there. Make a mark. For everyone to see: he was there and did this and that. The God. This huge black bear that wanders over the world in such a way that you can't tell when, where... but all of a sudden it steps over a person and the world becomes dark, blind and deaf. Ugly and smelly. Everywhere his trail leads. Well, I carved a cross in his wake, a birch cross, white, beautiful, straight, where he trampled me. Crippled like a bear to an ant.</p>"