“I despised my father, of course I did. The thought of presenting myself to him, of him thinking that my deeds could reflect on him was repulsive, that he thought what I would do would be a substitute for the son he’d never had, that he imagined that I would go back and take that place. I flung the thin woolen blankets aside, thinking I would set out into the darkness, out run my anger until I was gasping and breathless. But somehow, my feet took me to Parthenopaeus...”
