July 2011
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“The type of human being we prefer reveals the contours of our heart”
– Ortega Y Gasset (via lespiritdelescalier)
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Rupert Murdoch's Tabloid Culture →
On March 21, 2002, a thirteen-year-old English schoolgirl took the train home. Usually, she took it all the way to Hersham, seventeen miles from London, where she lived, but on that day she got off one stop before, at Walton-on-Thames, to get something to eat. From that decision flowed two events, one terrible and final, the other more ambiguous and by no means complete. The first was the death...
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You have played, (I think) And broke the toys you were fondest of, And are a little tired now; Tired of things that break, and— Just tired. So am I.
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