All his life, C had been dimly conscious of feeling as though he were seeking something from the world, digging through the sod and the soil for something. He did not necessarily want it for himself, he just needed it to exist.
He stood motionless, as his staring eyes reflected the expanse of stained glass in front of him. He had heard about this place, although he could not remember where. It was a theatre, in which patrons could join the actors and live little, ready-made lives, vignettes of reality. In short, it was a place to live vicariously, a place to be somebody else.
Alexander's debut novel, Venus In Chains is a surrealist exploration into meaning and desire, and the lengths to which one should go to find them.
