Alex Sinclair

“You'd stand shoulder to shoulder with ghosts in bars you'd thought would be too terrible to haunt, and you'd register their presence as a random chill that would ripple through you like a randomly struck piano key. And not all the ghosts were dead. The living dead were thick on the ground and caked in makeup to hide the rot, and they clogged up alley ways that bled neon.”
― Alex Sinclair