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Bøger af Isabelle Kenyon

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  • af Isabelle Kenyon
    132,95 kr.

    Faith-healer Amber is hopeful about Lehi, the safe Mormon town to which she, her new husband and two kids have just moved. But after the sudden death of her daughter, Amber discovers the community will do anything to keep its secrets. When nothing feels certain anymore, will Amber take a leap of faith, for love?

  • af Isabelle Kenyon
    102,95 kr.

    Issue Ten of the Fly on the Wall Press magazine series plunges us under the sea. Sixteen international writers and artists explore pull of the deep. Women fall in love with the tides; whales dance for joy. Some creatures grow sea urchin hearts, whilst others eat human hearts raw...Contributors: Marcelle Newbold, Carl Alexandersson, Cheryl Bryne, Eleonora Balsano, Elizabeth Gibson, Martina Bani, Diana Sanders (also cover artist) Hannah Brown, Kathryn O'Driscoll, Rupert Locke, Gerry Stewart, Lorraine Carey, Sarah Wallis, Zoë Green, Helen Kennedy and Satterday Shaw.Samples: RottingdeanHelen Kennedy There's a body lying on the groynewrapped in bladder wrack- difficult to sex.The sea drags at the rim of gravelI walk along the under cliff, check out the tide line.Sometimes our identity is transitory, exposed to the elements.returned from the sea. The price of freedomEleonora Balsano I was born at the bottom of the ocean, and there I will die.A king's daughter, murdered by a king's son, a man who sailed the seven seas, yet he's afraid of depths.I didn't know the word for light, I never needed it in the deep. My father made me out of sand and poured seafoam through my veins. Eels rocked me to sleep in the faint glow of jellyfish and seahorses nibbled at my toes in the morning, gently bringing me back from my dreams. The Weight of WaterZoë GreenNo accounting for the physiology of it, but lying prone in the water with a mask stuck to her face, she couldn't cry - as if the mask sealed the tears in. As if the Red Sea had already saltwater enough. 'It's impossible to be unhappy snorkeling, ' Steve had said that morning, 'right?', a shadow of desperation in his voice, the skin pegged between his brows. How he'd like her to be happy - though a snarky part of her wondered if that was for his own sake rather than hers.

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