Maybe the girl was telling the truth, and then again, maybe she wasn't. This is where my character, Lucia, is coming from. Each human contact leaves some indelible mark. ’ ‘A dagger, is it then?’ The girl froze. But the love of life prevailed over his fears. Her thoughts took words for themselves. It was one of the secret troubles of her mind, this grotesque twist her ideas would sometimes take, as though they rebelled and rioted. “Certainly. For nothing they kiss. That's how I finally got wind of it. To simplify matters, he carried a coloured paper lantern upon which his license number was painted in Arabic numerals. The Enschede Bible—the one out of which she read—had been strangely mutilated. . ‘And if you like, I will tell you why.
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