Sonny
Success makes a lot of bad shit go away. So
That number could be divided in a variety of ways, putting the missing point of the triangle in a myriad of possible positions on the map. What
The John Handy Quintet was on the stereo and the song was Naima, Handy’s 1967 ode to John Coltrane.
The air they drove through was clear and crisp. They kept the windows up and their expectations down. The call was a suicide run. They
The art of sports writing always amazed me. Nine out of ten times the reader already knows the outcome of your story before reading it. They know who won, they probably even watched the game. But they...
The house in Silverlake was dark, its windows as empty as a dead man’s eyes. It was an old California Craftsman with a full front porch and two dormer windows set on the long slope of the roof. But no...
The paying jobs were few and she was often taken advantage of by the leeches who were part of the entertainment industry. But she persevered.
The question of how you can hope and expect someone to forgive you when deep down you don’t forgive yourself.
The song was Somewhere Over the Rainbow, and she produced a sound from the horn that no human voice could ever touch. It was plaintive and sad but it came with an undeniable wave of underlying hope. I...
The unknown subject, McCaleb thought. So we meet again.
The world was full of people who could not get over things. There was no closure and there was no peace. The truth did not set you free. But you could get through things. That’s what Bosch would tell...
There is no end of things in the heart.Somebody once told me that. She said it came from a poem she believed in. She understood it to mean that if you took something to heart, really brought it inside...
There is no end of things in the heart. ...she understood it to mean that if you took something to heart, really brought it inside those red velvet folds, then it would always be there for you. No mat...
There was an engine approaching. Sounded like a truck to the boy. And now he thought he could hear the crunching of tires on the gravel access road that skirted the reservoir.
They were going through the Cahuenga Pass. Bosch looked out his window and up the hillside, searching for his house nestled in among the others in the folds of the mountain. He thought he saw a glimps...
Ultimately, Bosch was confounded
Un juicio es un concurso de mentiras. Y en la sala todo el mundo lo sabe.
We are all circling the drain, he thought. Some are closer to the black hole than others;
We want the truth, Detective. You are confusing that with what we choose to tell the public.
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