A truth is invisible, until someone needs it.
In a magical world called Shallowland, an eccentric spirit photographer, the Man in the Stovepipe Hat, and his wife, Magiana, struggle to prove that ghosts not only exist, but the dead can be captured along with their living relatives. Facing skeptical foes, rationalists, and an insidious beau, they are forced to reveal a profound mystery in a sensational trial for fraud and larceny.
This timeless tale is inspired by spiritualism and the inventor of spirit photography in 1860's postwar New York, William Mumler, one of the most important historical figures in American spiritualism who died a poor man, ridiculed, and at the same time, copied by his enemies.
The book has been recently published.
It is a project for film - no marketing promotions involved so far.
5-star reviews.
Dear seamstress,
I want a dress which falls modestly like a fine autumn rain. I would even say like the tears of my sister, Blue Day, and my mother, Pritvorna, but I would not want the dress to be so sorrowful. I would ask that the waist and bust be more relaxed so that I might be able to breathe when my husband looks at me and stops my breath with the ease with which the storm breaks the neck of a small bird. My breath stops for a good reason, unlike the poor bird. And speaking of birds, where I come from, they have happy beaks that rise up. And they are as sharp as your needles when they sing while the olives and mandarins blossom. The fruits throb and start to roll through the streets, as mature as words of love. They fill the river beds like some orange rivers that grow silent only at the feet of pregnant women. Women bow down and fill their wombs with their scent. So I want my dress to raise me higher, like the birds raising their beaks, and I want to appear fragrant all day, even when I meet customers and I am breathing the smell of sweat emanating from their anxiety at standing next to the dead whom they had no concerns in embracing when they were alive.
At the bottom of my dress, I imagine lace, as much as lace as there was in my sister's dowry. I did not bring much dowry since I could not carry it across the sea. But a sailor told me that women who bring with them little belongings become wealthy wives.
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Portuguese
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Already translated.
Translated by Andressa Candido
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