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120 pages, Kindle Edition
First published July 15, 2025
“Even deserts have a beginning.
Even gardens have an end.
Even water has a story.”
“Of course you do not trust me. You think I am the monster from a garden in the desert. Yet, to me, it is you who is that monster. This cycle of death and oppression does not persist because we fail to learn from it. But because we are each of us monsters born into gardens, and we all fear being thrust into the harshness of the desert.”
“There is no mourning except for that which was beautiful.”
"The truth is no camel, Heretic," the beggar continued. "Nobody owns it. All you have is a story. They get to decide if it’s true or not."
Often, someone’s eyes would go distant and their skin would sparkle. There was much of that. People lying in bed with skin sparkling when they could have been sleeping. Parents lost in the power... while their children played recklessly before them.
In his observing the city, Agba came to see the deep contradictions in the hearts of her people. They considered themselves good, yet not a second of their days was spent wondering about the evils committed in their name. They revered the dead king Obasa for his wisdom, yet few of them sought wisdom for themselves. They called themselves a city of stories, yet they cut away their ears so that they could not hear the stories of others.
They were capable of great love and mercy, the people of the City of Lies.... Yet they were also capable of a unique and terrible cruelty that they weren’t even aware of. A cruelty, in fact, that only survived through their inability to see it.
This was the cruelty of forgotten transgressions. The cruelty of children absolved of the sins of their parents but never disinherited from their plunders. This cruelty was an evil inscribed into history, so that those who came afterward would know nothing else.