Sublime

“His name was Horatio Brown. A throwback,” I said, smiling at the memory. “The type who kept a bottle of whiskey in his desk. Smoked three packs a day. Would occasionally flip through a thick file of his favorite dirty photos that he’d snapped on the job. Believed, as a physical rule of the universe, that every client was lying to him. In that, I’v

a deeply unfashionable man is invited into a privileged world and in so doing creates the coolest club on the planet.

But a spirit had been with them from the first which fenced, with a hundred quaint customs and legal fictions, the way of a man who wished to walk nameless and alone.

for a wood is a palace with a million corridors that cross each other everywhere.