#the excerpt

It was the billow of hope that washed the seashore of despair.

It is the unwillingness to fight that makes you lose a war.

The whisper to God was soft as the prayer to the wind.

Expectation, dear child, is a haunting house.

His inviting question open ended to her unyielding nerve.

A girl who had flowers in her hair seals her sweet nectar on to the lips of a boy who has a revolver in his hand. A fine taste of venom transpires. A delicacy of pure poison that they exchange.