When he touched Galatea, she felt what he felt, but had no context for it. Mostly, she felt the smooth marble of her own skin under his rough, calluse... hands. Behind it, she felt a gnawing hunger in his belly and a worrisome flickering of his lifeforce as he ate and drank only enough to keep himself going. Some days, he slept at her feet, his devotion not allowing him even the energy to crawl to his couch before sleeping.Some days now, her creator, whose name she now knew to be Pygmalion, would. Чуть выше по дороге можно было найти распластанное на кафеле женское тело неопределённой формы и возраста. Нижняя её часть отсутсвовала - вместо ног были видны рваные клочья кожи, мышц и обломки костей. Трудно было представить, что совсем недавно она пыталась ввести в своё влагалище динамитную шашку с зажжённым фитилём. Эффект был потрясающим - специально приглашённый на вечеринку оператор смаковал подробности процесса, отчего позже лишился глаза и половины черепа. Это его торопливые следы вели. More

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