Publisher's Synopsis
There are no midnights here. Night becomes day in a single breath. An unrelenting stream of light pours forth onto the becalmed tide, which then moves and at once makes the fiery dots pierce the fleeting darkness. Then fastidious shadows rise and rob the dawn of its bold demeanor. There is no transition, only abrupt shifts between light and darkness. Boys become men in mere moments. The loftiest of the horizon's shadows become dethroned, leaving new shadows to shatter what remains of a once-immutable silence. He drifts beneath the sparkling red surface, hearing the sound of something steadily drowning. But then he realizes that the inaudible sound belongs to a tide unlike any other. A tide that allows the world's most ancient memory to rise and take hold of tomorrow's unknown. He remains motionless as he hovers precariously between the surface and the deep. Bubbles rise but then wander aimlessly. He is a shadow drifting down toward the dark ocean floor. He feels that the aeon tide is no longer in motion. It has ceased to move along with his heart, which appears to shatter invisibly before his eyes. He is a shadow that seems to enter the arc of movement that leads to a watery grave. He tries to move upward but the sheer absence of weight drags him down toward the abyss. He feels it. The dreaded kiss of the dark. The ocean breathes silence. He tries to feel the tide, but it has stopped moving long ago. So long that he feels that its standstill precedes his very existence. What has happened to the tide? The tide was the only thing that kept his shadowy frame moving toward solidity. It was the thing that made his heart entirely solid and capable of sustaining each precious breath. The darkness enfolds him now. He wonders what has caused the tide to stop. Now, he is coming to a standstill. His vision is completely enshrouded by blackness. Then motion again. His heart regains a steady rhythm. He does not know if the darkness actually swallowed him or if it merely contrived the semblance of his sudden demise. The light shines through the dark depths. He is rising steadily, becoming more than a shadow. I am free. He feels his beloved's ghostly touch on his face. Intangible tears swell and trickle down his bruised visage. His mind races back to the beginning, and his heart instantly follows it. Anastiades sees the beginning of freedom form. There is an empty void, which instantly becomes filled with an organic flowering. Life unfolds before his eyes. He witnesses his own mortal start, feeling a muted thunder inside him. Then he feels it entirely. The birth of a free heart.