Title: Sin City: Hell and Back Again.
Author/Artist: Frank Miller.
Genre: Graphic novel, fiction, crime.
Publication Date: 1999-2000.
Summary: It's one of those clear, cool nights that drops in the middle of summer like a gift from on high. If it weren't for the rent, Wallace wouldn't have a care in the world. Then he sees Esther, about to throw it all away--and throw herself off a cliff. Wallace jumps in after her, saves her life, and falls in love, but before he can find out what she was running from, she's gone again, kidnapped. But Wallace isn't the kind to lose his head. He's calm. Like a monk. Like an executioner. And he'll find them.
My rating: 8/10.
♥ It's one of those clear, cool nights that drops into the middle of summer like a gift from on high. The short hairs on your arms carry an electric tingle, teasing, hinting at a coming storm. The wind rises in wild gusts, rattling windows, forcing hot dog vendors to wrestle with the umbrellas on their carts, ripping dried tree branches free and scattering them like old bones. It's no kind of night to stay in the city. It's no kind of night to stay inside anything.
♥ The tank. Ignore the sounds. Ignore the smells. Clear your mind. Escape. Escape--to your most private place--in your mind. Your private place. It's always there, waiting for you. In your mind. It's where you went when you were a kid and things got bad. It saved your life when the mission went all wrong. It's always there for you. Go. It's easy. You can always do it. It's easy. September breeze. Gentle New England sun. Dry leaves dancing, crackling like fire. Heavenly calm. You're clear. Now remember. Remember everything.
♥ "You're a quick little thing. I should've brought a fly swatter."
"You should've brought an army."
♥ Idiot. He's watched too many movies. He should know you don't try to shoot the driver, you kill the car. The rest usually takes care of itself.
♥ "You ever wonder about us cherubs? I mean, what gives? What are we, baby angels? Hell of a symbol for love, if you ask me."
♥ I rise, geriatric. I don't fall down. I don't throw up. Maxine. You fixed my mind. And I blew your brains out. That's tough. The guns are still hot. It's only been a few seconds. There's still time to get away.
"You're not going to believe it, but this is a first for me. I've never been shot before. But you shot me good, Wallace. Right through my gut. It's not like I expected. It hurts, sure, but it's what I can't feel that scares me. I can't feel my legs. Please, have mercy."
I do. She never knows what hits her. Promises made. Promises kept. Delia. You strange, sad creature.
♥ "I was lonely."
That rotten town. Those it can't corrupt, it soils. Those it can't soil, it kills. That rotten town. Miles behind us now. Fading into memory. A bright day dawns. We talk about all sorts of things.