Pop music can cause you to become a drug addict. Before Lucifer was thrown out of Heaven, he was the angel of… — Mark Behr

I must have slept for a while, because when I come to, I remember that I've been dreaming. Only a vague memory remains. Me, with someone else, galloping down a dry river-bed on horseback. We're chasing something across the sand, but I don't know what. It feels as though we're laughing, and I can see his teeth against his dark skin. It seems strangely familiar, and I try to remember . . .

It's the most dreadful of dreadful disgraces if a woman gets raped.

I smell the apple in his hand. It smells sour.