Heidegger, Floss, Elfride, and the Cat: Fiction --- Leon Rooke | Numéro Cinq
I spent the summer of 1968 in Freiburg. Martin Heidegger was still alive, living in a retreat in the Black Forest in an odor of disrepute on account of his Nazi sympathies during the war. I had a fantasy that I would meet him hiking in the woods. I never met him. I did meet