I have developed sores. Jacinto says they are the kind of sores undertakers get from handling the dead. I have never heard of them, but he says a name for the disease. I do not recognize it. Jacinto says there is no known cure. That they are not a threat to my life but once you have them they are permanent. Jacinto says he knows about this because his father had them. I am left to wonder if putting Alice's arm back in the sack so many weeks ago began the incubation of the disease. I have only touched her twice since I found her dead. Jacinto says they may go away if I get enough sun. It is yet another reason to leave the tower. Jacinto says there is fighting eveywhere. The new government is under attack from the rebels who don't like the fascists anymore. But Jacinto says the rebels can't win. Every time they are on the verge of victory the fascists rub their bodies up against the old stones. Doing this gives them superhuman strength. Bullets do no harm. They get brilliant ideas and no longer need to eat for days. Jacinto says the power in the rubble only works for them. Jacinto says it is all in the head, though. Jacinto says there is no special power in the stones. Jacinto says it is all sympathetic magic. I am weary of all the things Jacinto says.

"The grotesquely beautiful will be convulsive or it will be nothing at all. By that standard, this work by RW Spryszak is certainly something. What that something is will be a function of what the reader brings to the book and is willing to discover in it. You may find that it's about being haunted by truths and fictions that are entirely unbearable and entirely unavoidable. About the most difficult labyrinths to escape from, the ones in the mind. About whether it's our monsters and phantoms, or our saints and sacred images, that are the most dangerous. About the unfriendly fascism right around the corner and something even more frightening around the corner after that. About the fear of losing your mind, the fear of the world losing its mind, the fear of inevitable decay. In any case, if this story does not terrify you, you're not paying attention."

Max Cafard/ Author, "Lightning Storm Mind: Pre-Ancientist Meditations"

"Reminiscent of early surrealist tales, brings to mind not only the unsettling stories of André Pierre de Mandiargues, but of that far-off landscape of Gaspard de la Nuit... Looking for Gaspard, the author says: 'He is in hell, provided that he isn't somewhere else." One has to ask: Where is Edju? In some dim past that can't help slipping effortlessly into an unsettling future."

J. Karl Bogartte/Author, "And Still the Navigator"

RW Spryszak