List of Bookmarks
Silence was the saddest of refuges. Devoid of jettisoned, pithy words, no flotsam to salvage. It made an empty harbor like waiting arms, its rictus of cracked bone and peeled, leathered skin. And the still dust, and the cobwebs. He could not forget the crypt, that horrible welcome home.
Here and here and here he feels an expansion of himself, a great unfurling of something that he cannot name, and he thinks only yes.