Love That Dirty Water
The phrase that kept running through my mind was "a rent in the fabric of reality," and the image in my head was a tear in the painted backdrop of one of those light-hearted stage plays, revealing something dark and foreboding.
The day of the Boston Marathon bombings recalled others: the assassination of John F. Kennedy, the World Trade Center bombing. Once again, we were glued to the television, listening to the hapless newscasters filling the hours, retelling the same stories because there was nothing more to say.
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