By William Gibson |
Submitted by Kirk
Date: 2005 Jun 22
Comment on this Work
|And then she hears the sound of a helicopter, from somewhere behind her and, turning, sees the long white beam of light sweeping the dead ground as it comes, like a lighthouse gone mad from loneliness, and searching that barren ground as foolishly, as randomly, as any grieving heart ever has.|
--William Gibson, "Pattern Recognition"