Little thieves get shot, but great ones escape.” Kelly Oliver, WOLF: A Jessica James Mystery
He thought of what his mother always said whenever he cut himself, “Dimka, scars are time’s alphabet.” If so, his body was covered in poetry, his soul contained an entire encyclopedia of pain and loss...
He knew Kandinsky by heart: every trickle of red, slash of black ink, and hemorrhage of gold. Each dissonant note in its allegro, the harmony in its adagio, and its deep blue intermezzo, formed a symp...
