It Was Troubling That One

It Was Troubling That One Of The Few People She Trusted Was A Man She Spent So Much Time Avoiding

I Started To Write In 2001. I Wrote The Books For The Fun Of It. It Was An Old Idea I Had Had Since The Nineties.

No, I Don't Believe In God, But I Respect The Fact That You Do. Everyone Has To Have Something To Believe In.

Her Voice Was As Rough As Sandpaper. As Long As Blomkvist Lived, He Would Never Forget Her Face As She Went On The Attack. Her Teeth Were Bared Like A Beast Of Prey. Her Eyes Were Glittering, Black As Coal. She Moved With The Lightning Speed Of A Tarantula And Seemed Totally Focus On Her Prey As She Swung The Club Again, Striking Martin In The Ribs.

Martin Was Dafter Than A Syphilitic Polecat - Where Do I Get These Metaphors From?