January put his head out of the narrow passway between houses, scanned the still silence of Rue St. Louis. By the dim reflection of the oil lamp at the next intersection all was still; a heavy stillness rank of heat and stench and mosquito whine. A cat darted from an alley, bolted across the street, vanished. Stillness again. “If we can't get a witness about what happened here, at least there's no one to keep us from seeing what there is to be seen.” “There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so.” Hannibal coughed, one hand holding himself upright against the crumbling stucco and the other pressed to his side. “If you ever find out how to make consumption good by thinking, please let me know. I've been trying for years. Did you ever track down the map your cut-armed friend brought to Isaak, by the way? Find where the meeting place was, if it was a meeting place?” “I'm sure it was.”
What do You think about Benjamin January 3 - Graveyard?
