The Lying Tongue
Wherever I went I saw a question mark at the heart of the city. The first time was at the airport while waiting by the baggage carousel. I took out my guidebook, flicked to the map at the back, and the form seemed to jump off the page: the Grand Canal snaking its way through the saturated land, a constant interrogator.I looked around and wondered what brought these people to Venice. A young Chinese man concentrated as he eased a new SIM card into his mobile. A pretty, dark-skinned woman took off her glasses, retrieved a small mirror from her jacket pocket and proceeded to drop fish-scale-thin contact lenses into her eyes. A bald man, his shaved head reflecting the harsh yellow glow of the airport lights, waited impatiently for his luggage, his eyes nervous.
I knew what I was here for. I smiled to myself as I compared my position with that of my friends back in London, prep ... read full excerpt from The Lying Tongue ebook