“Fiction works to formula.The victim is always a pretty girl.And the answers are always right under your nose,to be revealed in the penultimate scene:by accident,or perhaps by a child-tying up all the loose ends in a pretty birthday-party bow.
Life,of course,is different.Life is nothing but loose ends.And sometimes the thread that seemed to lead so clearly into the heart of the labyrinth turns out to be nothing but tangled string, leaving us alone in the dark, afraid and consumed with the growing belief that the real action is still going on somewhere without us,just around the corner.”
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