The beautiful city that she had been awed by and even grown to love had been abandoned. This is where my character, Lucia, is coming from. I overlooked the mechanical imperfections of your work, the utter lack of finish, the crudeness of your drawing. “What have you done?” 212 “It is your own fault, Lucia. ’ ‘I’m afraid you are right. She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. ” Then she looked up at him with frightened eyes. Sheppard. Generations had been born and died in between the times she had gotten laid.
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