“What? You want me to go live with Zed?!”
“I wish you wouldn’t call him that. He’s still your dad.”
“But…we barely even see him!”
“He visits for the holidays!”
“Yeah, but weird random holidays that no one here has ever heard of!”
“That’s not true! Panathena is a very big deal in Greece.”
“Really, Mom?! Panthena? I don’t think that’s big deal anywhere…”
“As time marches on, Kaza has come to view his solitary existence as a necessary sacrifice, his home a sanctuary from a hostile world that doesn’t always look favorably on cops. By spending his free time reading cyberpunk novels, playing video games, and masturbating to porn, Gaza’s desire of preforming in a band and enjoying a satisfying relationship remained unrealized…”
“What belongs to me in this world, after all, besides what’s within these walls? What claim to this world do I have beyond them?”
“My alter-ego, Simon, might say, 'Nada.’"
In the heart of the Swiss Alps, the Vals Thermal Baths (the inspiration behind this graphic novel) were designed by famous Swiss architect Peter Zumthor. Born in Basel in 1943, Peter Zumthor earned the Pritzker Prize in 2009.
“And whenever my mother or anyone else well-meaning asks me why I spend so much time in a darkened room, staring at a glowing screen, I answer with a question of my own: Why do you live one life? As in: Why be content with one life when you could live one thousand and ninety-five? A few of them are bound to be more interesting that your own. Or in my case: most of them.” - Chapter 1, This Book Is Not Yet Rated
“About half of the waters in our world are poisoned by Dark Aether. Those are the Dark Seas. It takes specially trained warriors to navigate those waters safely. Those Warriors are us, Drifters.”
“Woah, you guys are kind of a big deal, huh?”
“But it’s part of the reason people don’t like us. Because we only have to roam the seas once in a while, people assume we just laze around earning wages. And Drifters in the past have been notoriously arrogant. The sins of the past was always hard to overcome.”
“And what you said about stories. I really get that now. You’d said they weren’t about filling time, entertainment. Not that that’s wrong, a story can be both meaningful and entertaining, you’d said, should be both for it to resonate. You told me that stories connected us, made us understand ourselves and each tear a little better. That stories made the world a better place because they are empathy engines.
I like that. Empathy engine. Vroom vroom.
It's a noble cause, storytelling, you’d said. Noble work.
So, here I go being noble.”
“I was born on August 5th, 1894, at St, Vincent’s Hospital to Thomas and Helen Moore.
My father was an officer for the Los Angeles Police Department. In 1904, he became one of two officers to work for the city of Hollywood.
My earliest memory is the feeling of stubble on his face and touching his shiny badge.
The last time I saw him, I was 15 years old…”
Nowhere, Kansas. Even the name sounds innocuous. A place you drive through without slowing and never think about again. The biggest problem is an occasional squabble at the local bar, and long-time resident and Sheriff Peter Holbrook likes it that way. In fact, the only thing that truly bothers him is his fear of the gray: the mysterious storms that plague Nowhere every year, blanketing the town in rain and fog.
"Tristan pulled Cade up, ending their break. 'Let’s go, little brother,' he said. 'We’re almost there.' Cade looked at his brother and felt the need to say something. Something important. Soon, things would never be the same for them again. Tristan was about to be vaulted into a new life, and Cade would continue to be just Cade. It was as if Cade were standing on a hand platform, watching his brother board a ship that would take him somewhere he could never go. The idea filled Cade with a sense of loss, to mourning. But before Tristan departed, Cade wanted to somehow capture this moment and hold it so he could think back, fondly, on the last time there were a pair. Just like they had always been.” -Chapter 2