"But finally you find that you have people of flesh and blood on your hands, people with will and an individual sensibility of their own, made out of component parts you are unable to change, manipulate or distort." (Harold Pinter)
She runs along the path, admiring the green edge of the canal: this is her territory, austere and silent, in the morning light.
On the bank, the tall trees observe her, recognising her sombre and exquisite beauty.
Soon she reaches the small bridge, where she seduces and kills her victims.
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This is like the start of a crime novel: hmmm, gives me all sorts of ideas…
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Intriguing and a little scary too.
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