Why Do I Burp When I Have The Flu

God Of Illusions - The Prologue

I decided that from now on, a bit 'at a time, will post all the pieces of God of Illusions that I like better - that is, more or less throughout the book, but oh well .

Here's the last part of the prologue. The italics are mine.

"It's hard to believe that such a commotion took place because of an act for which I was partly responsible, and even harder to believe that he lived those moments - the cameras, the uniforms, the crowds that swarmed over the slopes of Mount Cataract, black like ants in a sugar bowl - without incurring a modicum of suspicion.
But going through those times is one thing, get out, unfortunately, proved to be a different kettle of fish, and though once thought to have left that pit forever, in an April afternoon long ago, now I'm not so sure.
Now all those people trying Bunny is gone, my life has come back quiet; and I came to understand that , although for years I could have imagined to be elsewhere, in Actually I've always been up there at the muddy furrows of the new wheels on the grass, where the sky is dark over the apple blossoms swaying in the breeze, and the first cold of the snow falling that night has already air.
"What are you doing here?" Said Bunny surprised when we found all four waiting.
'Well, we are looking for new ferns, "said Henry.
And after we were whispering softly in the bushes - a last look at the body and a last look around, or lost keys or glasses, you have everything? - And we then walked through the woods in single file, while I turned around to look beyond the shoots that closed the path behind me.
I remember way back, and the first snowflakes arrived solitary wandering among the pines, I remember the joy while you are crammed into the car and was recovering in the street as a family holiday, with Henry who drove all stretched between the holes and the other leaning against the front seat, chatting as children; remember too well the long and terrible night I waited, and the long dreadful days and nights that followed : I only have to look behind me because all these years slip away, and I'll see you again behind me, ravine that rises to meet me, between black and green shoots, an image that will not forsake me never.
I suppose at some point in my life, I could tell many stories, but now there are others. This is the only history that will never tell. "