Chapter 43
The last time Leo visited the village where Maria was born, several people still lived there. Many of the children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren had made the trip then. The narrow streets had been teeming with people. The change could not possibly have been more stark.
The only thing close to the strangeness, the dislocation from reality, was walking onto an empty movie or TV set. His staggering mind insisted everything was fake, that a stiff enough wind would make the facades of low, white houses shudder or even fall over. Any second now, people from special effects or set decoration would come around the corner with trees or boulders slung casually over their shoulders. The last bit of unreality needed to complete the perfect illusion.
Sanda set a brake on the wag
