This week, while burning the midnight oil myself, I decided to pay a tribute to some of the first lines in the book and some of my favorites.
Sleep failed him more often now, not once or twice a week but four times, five. What did he do when this happened? He did not take long walks into the scrolling dawn. There was no friend he loved enough to harrow with a call. What was there to say? It was a matter of silences, not words.
And that’s how we meet Eric. Sure made an impression on me!
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