博客來Fly with the author and her angel muse through space-time wormholes as they seek the light, even in the darkest places-the mind of a raving madman, the hearts of the abused, and an aging dowager’s faded apartment in the palace of Versailles. Listen in the graveyard to a call for the dead to rocket from their tombs on beams of heavenly light. Cover your ears and close your eyes with the child in the mirror coming of age. Laugh at the absurdities in human nature, for laughter is the fuel that lightens the heart and heals.
FROM THE BOOK
The Greyhound Station is full of folks in-between, coming and going. A thin lady on the bench opposite is crushing a carpetbag against her skinny chest. She’s looking around like she’s scared. The old man next to her is staring at the floor, rocking. Waiting like me, in-between. LEAVING THE NEIGHBORHOOD
Rigid, I sat and stared at seven wooden steps with seven plastic dolls, eyes shut tight by crusty hinges. Their breathing had stopped, and their hard limbs were frozen like the dead in Pompeii. A STEP UP
Bone-tired, drained and fatigued, Lackley kept running. In the darkness with no moon, he hit a rock and careened into a thorny bush before regaining his balance. The barks of the red-eyed hounds pursuing him grew louder, impossible to outrun them. Time to bite the black vial. But it lay buried in his breast pocket!
＂Damn.＂ A WELCOME PARTY FOR LACKLEY
