The cordon contains us.
Rita Callum had left New York for Chicago when she was twenty-eight. The city had felt less and less like home, as the increasingly liberal attitudes had swayed from their Blitz spirit. She’d been fourteen at the fall of Bush, and had grown up with
If Hannah Cowley heard the word chiaroscuro one more time, she would scream. She had told her therapist about her picture, about the way she saw her life, about the balance of light and darkness. That darkness can clarify the light. They hadn’t seen her
It had to be a mechanism to enter a secret place. It was impossible, given that his eye was drawn to it, that it would not let him pass through a secret door. He had these intuitive feelings. They were a problem, really. They were
Dublin. One of the thirty five constituent capitals of the European superstate, one of the most northerly, part of the only land sharing a border with the failed state of the United Kingdom. One of the tiny number of political refugees was in an
All of these prophets: This is the age of disquiet. The scattered listeners, those men and women for whom the word of what is to come comes down to, they hear the sound of disquiet. These are truly the last days. Or, at least, they
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