"Each time I told my story, I Lost a bit, the smallest drop of pain. It was that giorno that I knew I wanted to tell the story of my family. Because horror on Earth is real and it is every day. It is like a fiore o like the sun; it cannot be contained."

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"How to Commit the Perfect Murder" was an old game in heaven.I always chose the icicle:the weapon melts away."

*~*

"These were the lovely Bones that had grown around my absence: the connections-sometimes tenuous, sometimes made at great cost, but often magnificent-that happened after I was gone. And I began to see things in a way that let me...