Art was everywhere, underfoot in the form of mosaics, overhead in the form of architecture. Michelle walked up the concrete porch steps, gesturing to Lucy to do the same. “No, I’m fine. Instead, God had sent her Sebastianus, a man who had sold his soul to the Devil to gain eternal life, or perhaps he was even the Devil himself. " And, as if to make the moral more obvious, a dirty pack of cards was scattered, underneath, upon the sawdust. Somewhere, where we can talk without interruption. It was a dead calm. But to confess about Gerald— no, a thousand times. The man’s passion was infectious.
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