I’d like to start a series of posts of the books that people read on the bus. This is the first post.
THERE IS A MOMENT WHEN ALL HOPE DISAPPEARS, all pride is gone, all expectation, all faith, all desire. I own that moment. It belongs to me. That’s when I hear the sound. The sound of a mind breaking.
It’s not a loud crack like when bones shatter or a spine fractures of a skull collapses. And it’s not something soft and wet like a heart breaking. It’s a sound that makes you wonder how much pain a person can endure; a sound that shatters memories and lets the past leak into the present; a sound so high that only the hounds of hell can hear it.
Can you hear it? Someone is curled up in a tiny ball crying softly into an endless night.