| On Monday, it will be 47 years since 4 May 1979. Yeah, that's 17,168 days, 2,452 weeks, each one lived in the long shadow of a moment that could easily have ended everything. "And none of those days were shaped by any other 'historic' events happening in Britain that particular Friday, despite what the newspapers might say." If I’m still here in three days, I’ll raise a quiet glass to the person who made it possible for me to live every single one of those days, the surgeon whose hands gave me the years I needed to grow, to survive, and eventually to write Crackmask. And should the universe have other plans before Monday... I’ll say this now, while I can: the cover is complete. Those bubbles were never just bubbles. They were the little joys I held onto, the ones I later learned to give away to people who had none. This cover is a quiet reminder that even the smallest moments of light can survive the cracks and sometimes escape them. |  |
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