Jun 4·edited Jun 4Liked by Richard Partridge

I have no answer. And I have many answers.

The reason for which I have no answer is that I'm not sure that for me, in particular, there is. I wonder sometimes even at the love of my country: the love that never falters, the love that pays the price, the love that makes undaunted the final sacrifice. (https://endlesschain.substack.com/p/charles-iii-we-love-you-yeah-yeah).

And the reason for which I have many answers, but will state of them none, is that, like Thomas More, I cannot look into the conscience of another man (you may use the link given above).

Peppered throughout my reading of this piece, which, over four short paragraphs, develops from a misty-eyed and somewhat drab narration of a dockside somewhere, some time, through a soliloquy of troubling dimensions, to a murder mystery worthy of Hitchcock, were my laughs, becoming rueful squints and, finally, startled epiphany.

His beige flasher's mac; he felt at home. It was deserted; a lot of very cheap, very small-roomed hotels (that second "very" is inspired); she seemed eager to please; her transformation was startling; nothing seemed to add up; kill ... literally.

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Good Heavens ! Another post with an abundance of details. Just the right amount can really draw the reader in. Musicians call it a " hook ".

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