“ Passion and death are implicit, one in the other. Past the border of a fiery life lies the netherworld. I can trace this road, which took my through places so hot the very air burned the lungs. I did not turn back. I pressed on, and eventually passed over the border, beyond which lies a place that is wordless and cold, so cold it, like mercury, burns a freezing blue flame.
Wasted by Marya Hornbacher
