Every once in a while, well, actually often, a news story chills you to the bone. There are the daily stories of mayhem and brutality and chaos that you try not to think about. Because such wide scale sadness can drown your tiny bourgeois life. You are left with that But for the grace of God goes I feeling as you try to shut the door to the tsunami of misery.
Then suddenly there is one which stands from the pack because of its singularity.
I shouldn’t check out the newspaper online before writing because it can completely derail me. Like this one.
That one just stopped me in my tracks. Threw my daily quota out the window as I sat there and wondered:
What is going on in the world that makes a man do that?
What is going to happen to the two little boys.
What was that little girl thinking in her last moments.
And how on earth can fiction ever address that?