“What are
you going to do now?” Mrs. Clancy asked me at the cottage. “I’m going to
write a book,” I answered. The last confession of the sun god, told by
the little girl he’d loved beyond all reason. Except, as it turned out,
he was no god at all. Just a weak, damaged man who had lost everything,
and who had known even less. But in the end truth
is irrelevant. History is written by the
winners.
The sun
god is the biggest loser of them all.
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