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14 января 2019 г., 22:17
“What’s your name?” I asked, hoping for a straightforward response.
“Cielo,” he said—a single word, made soft and lovely by his accent, which seemed to flutter from one end of Vinalia to the other.
“You’re making that up.” I had never heard of anyone named after the sky. It sounded like the strega’s own invention. And he had skipped the family part entirely.
“It’s true I picked Cielo for myself, but every name is made up by someone,” he said softly. “They are all lies, or none of them are.”
