A Slow Mend

Just finished the book I bought from B&N last night, and admit to having cried a few tears at its completion. But then again, a few tears shed over a good book are certainly worth every turn of the page its words are written on.

And though it seemed like luck, stopping right when I did, the cover a robin's egg blue calling me from it's perch on the shelf, it felt more like fate was guiding my hands to something I was meant to see.

Immediately drawn to the title, my eyes focused on the purple lines that dissected the cover into fragments, including a solitary woman, face down, eyes closed. And I recognized the feeling. The feeling of being shattered pieces of yourself, even if no one but yourself could see.

I hadn't meant to buy the book, but I was lost within moments of reading the first paragraph, and knew I wouldn't walk away without it. I hope the author won't mind me posting a bit of what caught my eye.

While the woman sleeps and dreams of all that breaks, come into this house of many rooms. Once your eyes adjust to the darkness, beginning to take in what is visible, you may notice a silence that is not quite silent. There is another language being spoken here, a tongue that emanates from white clay, fire, the oils of many skins, the fusion of rent spirits and matter. The woman hears this language always, even in her sleep, because she is guilty, and because those who speak to her are never silent. But for you, the innocent, there may only be a humming, a distant drone.
-an excerpt from the Prologue of Broken For You, a novel by Stephanie Kallos.