That wind. I see it's blowing now. Furtive but commanding, it has dictated every move we've ever made. My mother felt it, and so do I - even here, even now - as it sweeps us like leaves into his backseat corner, dancing us to shreds against the stones. V'la l'bon vent, v'a l'joli vent. I though we'd silenced it for good. But the smallest thing can wake the wind@ a word, a sign, even a death. There's no such thing as a trivial thing. Everything costs; it all adds up until finally the balance shifts and we're gone again, back on the road, telling ourselves - well maybe next time

Somehow the anticipation of pain can be even more troubling, more a misery than the pain itself.

A few hundred years ago there were no differences between magic and medicine.

The right circumstances sometimes happen of their own accord, slyly, without fanfare, without warning. Layman's alchemy. . . . The magic of everyday things.

I'd rather be a freak than a clone.

Clones fit in. Freaks stand out. Ask me which one I prefer.

Some things can be both real and imaginary at the same time, . . . some lies can be true, . . . broken faith may be restored.