Pam Jones

One would think, however, that sharing a name might offer a thin string of connection. It was always a thrill to meet someone who had the same name as you, and unlike a lot of things, this was a thrill that never quite faded.

It was not impulse.It was not lust.It was not wrath, or boredom, or desperation.People remembered the saints because they had their tokens.

Her occupation was the worst that anyone could think of. No guest in the park had to think of it because, unlike the wandering dwarf women, her job had no bearing on paper.