Something I miss: well, I could say that I miss my father, only because his going his disappearance spelled out for me so plainly what sort of world I lived in. My mother missed him, and I was terrified. I miss the feeling of a world without fear. Fear has been a constant since I was nine years old. None of the old rules work any more, and the savants are feeling their way in the dark like the rest of us. There are ghost-painters and there are bone-talkers and there are shape-shifters and vampires and werewolves, particularly in the dead places, and the ones watered in human blood. The dead cities rise up and seek revenge, want to come back to life, which of course they cannot.
If Berlin is so on the night of the full moon, I can only imagine Rome, or Jerusalem.
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