" So, all we could do was wait in her house, a small, humid, and airy house which had a ghost-like quality about it, not haunted in the supernatural sense, I don’t believe in those things, but memory-haunted, as if its floors and walls and altars and shelves full of figurines and letters of those who had left contained the entire memory of the abandoned village. "

― Michael Zapata , The Lost Book of Adana Moreau