Who has more rights in the ebb and flow of life's ambiguous journey, as gaping wounds are opened and Maldon salt rubbed therein as the individuals at the Criminal Cases Review Commission await this latest expedient disguised as impetus to Jeremy's release. A man who after colloquy with his latest apologist ascends the stairwell back to debilitating incarceration, where the merest flaw is seen as sign of human weakness, yet flaws they are now as they always were, concealed in an outwardly affable and respectable manner.
Will Colin hear the voices of his sons again, the incidental chatter accompanying the journey to school, their vivacity, their tenderness, their earnestness beyond their years, or are they forsaken as Divine justice for Colin's transgressions and his boys eternally snatched from him?
Is Jeremy safer in the apostasy of a religion which wrecked both mother and sister, this dullard who feels nothing and who created nothing in contrast to Colin's crafted hands, a Colin who confronts the throes of despair as the evening shadows reflect off the casement, the silhouette of White House Farm etched indelibly on his memory, piercing the thread of his consciousness, a shrine to Jeremy's destructiveness as he starts another week in their shadow, mired in their power, as perhaps both Jeremy and Colin come to realize we may live in a godless world?
