Cirrus@Austlit

'The little bundle was falling from the sky and then he was awake, and he listened to this cold season's early westerly winds shaking loose the world outside. The bedroom was almost dark though achingly bright moonlight filtered one window, creating slashes of clarity over the carved Rosewood Chinese palace armchair Laura had rescued and painstakingly restored from some roadside trash collection. From where he cowered, the side of this face pressed to his pillow, he saw more shards of light: falling across the floor's oriental rug; over two perfume bottles and a hairbrush on the night-stand; one white streak was across Laura's scattered winter clothes. ' (Introduction)