"Life was bleak before August McAvery. The world was gray, colorless, a never-ending tapestry woven of the thinnest threads, frayed at the ends and bitten by a hundred greedy, preying moths. The world smelled of tobacco, of smoke and asphalt, of car fumes and stale coffee and unwashed denim. But that was before August McAvery. And once she came into the world, her textiles knit with sunlight and green tea and bright, flaming red, the city would never be the same again."