“Ghost grabbed the cab cage and kicked at the driver. Flesh tore. The crewman ripped away from the forklift and fell on the ice, steering wheel welded to his hands. Ghost stamped on the man’s head until it burst. “… — Adam Baker Copy Share Image
“The operating table was empty. 'Where's he gone?' demanded Jane. 'he didn't leave a note,' said Rye” — Adam Baker Copy Share Image
“Sometimes people don’t have to say or do anything weird. They just sit there, quietly sipping tea, all the while putting out an ultrasonic… — Adam Baker Copy Share Image
“But imagine if we were the only people left. The last men on earth. I’d be the best golfer in the world right now.… — Adam Baker Copy Share Image
“Yeah,” sighed Jane. “I suppose. But that’s the problem. I can cope with despair. But hope keeps fucking me up.” — Adam Baker Copy Share Image
“They say a happy childhood is a lousy preparation for life. Kids who spend their playground days fat, ginger or gay know the truth.” — Adam Baker Copy Share Image
“Kill me,” he said. “Do it clean.” He sat at a cocktail piano. He played ‘I Get a Kick Out of You’. Rye stood… — Adam Baker Copy Share Image
“They say a happy childhood is a lousy preparation for life. Kids who spend their playground days fat, ginger or gay know the truth.… — Adam Baker Copy Share Image
“Thing is, what does a hero look like these days? Muscles and lycra? Life isn’t a contest of strength anymore. Jobs, banks, taxes. Boring… — Adam Baker Copy Share Image
“Jane felt self-conscious each time Ghost saw her naked. A lifetime of fathood had left her with sagging skin. Ghost didn’t seem to mind.… — Adam Baker Copy Share Image
“Jane woke, stretched, and decided to kill herself. If she hadn’t found a reason to live by the end of the day she would… — Adam Baker Copy Share Image
“The burden of selfhood,” she sighed. “Life-long anguish. Straining to support an elaborate artifice every waking moment. Trying to maintain our bullshit personas. Haircuts,… — Adam Baker Copy Share Image
“I read a lot of travel books before I came here. Fantasised what it would be like. I read Scott’s journal. Those last entries… — Adam Baker Copy Share Image
