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A novel (fiction) by Sheri Reynolds about overcoming horrific physical and sexual abuse.

A friend lent it to me and the novel has one of the most memorable beginnings to a book I've ever read:

"For as long as I can remember, I've searched for things to worship- bits of rock, storm fronts, bugs with turquoise glitter on their wings. But rocks chip, storms churn themselves out, and bugs can be crushed with a heel or a raindrop. Gods change colors and spin themselves new garments every day. The most we can hope for is to be allowed to watch.

"I have learned that the products of worship are always two-fold. If you study the moon too hard for too long, it will fall down luminous upon you. And with moon in your eyes and moon anchoring your feet, you can never see the stars again.

"I'm looking for the place where worship finds balance, where it does not debase me or exalt me so high that I can't return. Gods change colors and spin themselves new garments every day. I want to be able to stand in awe of them, one at a time."

Thank you Reynolds.

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