It is deep winter and the mornings have been dark for a while now. But I remember when I actually registered it. Perception is funny that way. Change gradually happens over time, but noticing it takes one studied moment. All of a sudden - or maybe not - you perceive that shift in the seasons. I look out the window as I get dressed in the early mornings and it feels as though it is the middle of the night. My running buddies and I begin our run in the woods by the river in the dim, grey-black light of dawn now; that strange, sort of other-worldly time when eyesight is a secondary, sort of backseat sense, when my feet intuitively take over and I don't even have to think about navigating the trail.
It's been a dark, otherworldly kind of week in other ways too. A Lovely, Dark, and Deep kind of week, in fact.
This haunting, lyrical story is Amy McNamara's debut, but it is clear that she...
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