'This is a story of the night and it is night now, brightened only by my lamp, my torch, and the words inside the petrol-soaked square of paper that I turn over with the matches in my hand. Midnight. Flakes of bloody rust falls down onto my skin, while the wind sings like a siren through the cracks in the walls, then spits rain onto my hair and howl. The stench of petrol has seeped into my clothes. I miss her. I miss them both. And I really want to tell you about it.' Angelo Paulillo is a seeker. The elusive presences of his brother Mic and his mother haunt him. In his church home, the stories in the windows speak to him. And they tell him what to do. Angelo's croupier lover, Christina, flies between three dark worlds: the glitter and fun of the casino, the magic of her tower block flat and the loneliness of Angelo's church. She tries to understand Angelo's visions and memories, and to case the burning pain that they cause him. Folie a deuxshared madness. But just how much can you, should