A cousin of mine, who is in London for a summer photography program, remembered her forgotten keys shortly before boarding a double-decker bus. This was yesterday morning. She hurried back toward the dorm, and as she did, that bus blew to bits. Physically, she is unscathed.

I'm still waiting to hear from my friend, Dave, the expatriate. I've only got his e-mail address.

Whatever you people want, whatever that truly is, you aren’t going to get it with more explosions; you aren’t going to get it with more murder—you haven’t yet, you didn’t yesterday, what makes you think you will today or tomorrow or next week? It won’t matter if it’s Madrid, London, or New York. You aren’t going to get what you want by doing what your doing. How many things do you have to blow up before this truth becomes clear?

Your bloody diligence will be your undoing.

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