"She learned to abandon herself to the Horsemen. She saw the loa Linglessou enter Beauvoir in the oumphor, saw his feet scatter the diagrams outlined in white flour. She knew the gods, in New Jersey, and love. The loa had guided her, when she'd set out with Bobby to build her third, her current life. They were well matched, Angie and Bobby, born out of vacuums, Angie from the clean blank kingdom of Maas Biolabs and Bobby from the boredom of Barrytown. . . . Grande Brigitte touched her, without warning; she stumbled, almost fell to her knees in the surf, as the sound of the sea was sucked away into the twilit landscape that opened in front of her. The whitewashed cemetery walls, the gravestones, the willows. The candles. Beneath the oldest willow, a multitude of candles, the twisted roots pale with wax. Child , know me. And Angie felt her there, all at once, and knew her for what she was, Mamman Brigitte, Mademoiselle Brigitte, eldest of the dead. I have no cult, child, no special altar. She found herself walking forward, into candleglow, a buzzing in her ears, as though the willow hid a vast hive of bees. My blood is vengeance."

William Gibson - Mona Lisa Overdrive

Enjoy the site... gRIEVOUS aNGEL 1/23/2010