echo, the death of a sound that had nowhere to go but to come back.

Who are you? the band sang. I tried to remember but I really couldn't say.

How many people ask you to come share their life?

He reminded me of someone who put your fingers in the door and smiled and talked to you while he smashed them.

I almost said, you're not broken, you're just going through something. But i couldn't. She knew. There was something terribly wrong with her, all the way inside. She was like a big diamond with a dead spot in the middle. I was supposed to breathe life into that dead spot, but it hadn't worked.

They say drugs are not the answer, but really, what is the question?

When most people looked at Josie Tyrell, they only saw a certain collection of bones, a selection of forms filling space. But Michael saw past the mouth and the eyes, the architecture of the body, her fleshly masquerade. Other boys were happy enough to enjoy the show, they just wanted to be entertained in the body's shadow theater. But Michael had to come backstage. He went down into the mines, into the dark, and brought up the gold, your new self, a better self. But what good was it if he was just going to leave her behind?