No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning. I keep on swallowing.

At other times it feels like being mildly drunk, or concussed. There is a sort of invisible blanket between the world and me. I find it hard to take in what anyone says. Or perhaps, hard to want to take it in. It is so uninteresting. Yet I want the others to be about me. I dread the moments when the house is empty. If only they would talk to one another and not to me. C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

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Look! A distraction! A four year old boy dangles from a balcony! A man climbs up the building to save him! A real life Spiderman! And he’s Black, imagine that! A little boy saved by a migrant, no less! Oh, kind sir, thank you for putting your life on the line once again, but this time it was to save a French child, so now we’ve decided that your risk was worth it! Come with us, meet the president! Take your papers! Be a fireman! This is Europe! Look how kind and compassionate we are! Even the Daily Mail shared a positive story about you! SPIDERMAN! SPIDERMAAAAN!

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