...the night is suddenly vaster, colder, clearer.
All the stars zing; the mountains glitter; towns and villages gather like bright mould in the valley-seams and along the coasts.
Every movement in byre and bunny-hole, of leaf against leaf, of germ in soil and stream, turns and gleams and laminates every other, the whole world monstrously fancy, laced tight together, yet slopping over and unraveling in every direction, a grand brilliant wastage of the living an the dying.

Auteur: Margo Lanagan