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“I waved him off, stayed a while on my rock, feet still dangling in the water, wiping my arms and torso absently with my still-damp washrag, watching the ripples politely excuse themselves past my ankles. In resonance, my thoughts rippled around conceptual pebbles – courage, heroism, pain, death. Was that a sequence? Imposed by logic? By the futility of struggle? Or perhaps a deus ex machina? From Barry Gilder’s novel At Fire Hour, winner of the 2024 South African Literary Award for Best Novel.” — Barry Gilder
I waved him off, stayed a while on my rock, feet still dangling in the water, wiping my arms and torso absently with my still-damp washrag, watching the ripples politely excuse themselves past my ankles.
In resonance, my thoughts rippled around conceptual pebbles – courage, heroism, pain, death. Was that a sequence? Imposed by logic? By the futility of struggle? Or perhaps a deus ex machina?
From Barry Gilder’s novel At Fire Hour, winner of the 2024 South African Literary Award for Best Novel.