. "It is never too late. 133 “TRY ME!” He yelled, his voice booming into the cacophony beyond the walls. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. ‘Hates doing the pretty. Wiped out, but for these. I suppose you have come to see your granddaughter. Horrors abounded in every passageway as each turn could bring a vision of a poor woman running from her screaming plague-infested son or a bloated corpse of a rich man whose mouth lolled open, showing gaps where someone had pried out a few golden teeth.
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