“You must
be able to tell us more than that?” My wife can be persistent when
she's of a mind.
Oak sighed,
and for the first time since he'd arrived, I saw a chink in his
armour of stony authority. “It has been described to me as a
garden of wonder and delight,” he told her.
“Well that
certainly doesn't sound too bad,” she replied.
“And as a
living, breathing hell,” he continued. “As the greatest city
ever built, the darkest hour of the longest night, a library of the
impossible, a psychopath's wet dream, an ocean of chaos, an endless
corridor lined with nightmares and, by one very lost soul, as home
sweet home. As I said, accounts vary, and none of them are to be
trusted.”
