博客來David Bowie looks at a painting in a gallery. As he watches, the face in the portrait seems to shift, to take on his own aspects: the silhouette spills into the Ziggy Stardust mullet, then contracts into the fascist-chic pompadour of the Thin White Duke, then goes curly. An astral jewel blooms on the forehead; the left pupil dilates.
Standing before it, David Bowie sees every mask he has ever worn, every shapeshifting phase of an iconic, fifty-year career even the most jaded critic wouldn’t hesitate to call ＂classic.＂
He turns away - the painting shifts with him - only to find he has been staring into a mirror. A reflection. A warm and familiar void.
The cult classic collection of David Bowie stories returns to print, with new stories.
