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“Netherton?” asked the voice, as if suspecting the name of being an unfamiliar euphemism.
I love how Gibson can turn a phrase like this. Descriptive and elusive both at once.
Sufficiently uncharacteristic a thought that he glanced around, as if to be sure that no one had seen him entertain it.
Gibson imbues his characters with so much humanity, with so few words.
As they neared its corner, she dropped on all fours and crept forward, to peer around it, like something from a children’s book, but gone appallingly wrong.
“Eras are conveniences, particularly for those who never experienced them. We carve history from totalities beyond our grasp. Bolt labels on the result. Handles. Then speak of the handles as though they were things in themselves.”
odds are good around here, but the goods are odd.
Speaking of the possibility to find a man. Haha
