I’ve got imagination. Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead. She taught him how to sail a proa, how to hack open a milk-coconut, how to relish bamboo sprouts. Sometimes it seemed to him that he was an impostor: that Ruth believed him to be one Howard Spurlock, when he was only masquerading as Spurlock. "Mind, I, Rykhart Van Galgebrok predict it. He probably imagines himself to be a thousand times worse off than he actually is. She saw it, and checked without thinking. Wood the carpenter.
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