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Angel is more a painter than he is a man, more divine than he is human. He sends messages in bottles. He forgets that he's now rich, after living on the street before art dealer X found him and took him in two years ago. Angel thinks he has secrets, even though he blurts out every thought he has the moment he has it. He collects bottles to capture light. Some people think he's crazy, some think he's slow, but anyone who's seen his art knows he's brilliant.
X thought theirs was to be a love for the ages. X thought he knew everything about Angel, but it turns out Angel does have secrets-agonizing, destructive secrets.
He leaves Angel, or thinks he does, but it's Angel who disappears. Soon X realizes Angel is in terrible danger, as the only thing Angel appears to know about how to live is how to paint-though oddly, Angel's mad mutterings before he left indicate he thinks it's X who's in danger, X who needs finding. In New York City, between rivers and skyscrapers and the ocean and millions of souls, how will they ever find each other?
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