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"Sleep-deprived and staggered, melancholy Lucchesi says aloud to no one, because no one is there, not even himself, "I am hopelessly old," as he searches the bathroom mirror for the face he never haddwelling without mercy on the unacceptable image, touching the evidence of deterioration, who has only Ruth now to save him from himselfRuth, his grieving wife, who grieves because her erratic husband has told her too many times that there can be no joy, no intimacy, no refuge, nothing at all for Thomas Lucchesi, Junior, except inside the art of his fiction."
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First Sentence
"Sleep-deprived and staggered, melancholy Lucchesi says aloud to no one, because no one is there, not even himself, "I am hopelessly old," as he searches the bathroom mirror for the face he never haddwelling without mercy on the unacceptable image, touching the evidence of deterioration, who has only Ruth now to save him from himselfRuth, his grieving wife, who grieves because her erratic husband has told her too many times that there can be no joy, no intimacy, no refuge, nothing at all for Thomas Lucchesi, Junior, except inside the art of his fiction."
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