from william gibson's Pattern Recognition:
~ alone again, suddenly, in the crepuscular calm of a tokyo taxi. (note: three alliterations, evocative and compelling, in an eleven-word sentence!!)
~ liminal. [her] word for certain states: thresholds, zones of transition. does she feel liminal now, or simply directionless?
~ and then she hears the sound of a helicopter, from somewhere behind her and, turning, sees the long white beam of light sweeping the dead ground as it comes, like a lighthouse gone mad from loneliness, and searching that barren ground as foolishly, as randomly, as any grieving heart ever has.