It has become like a nightmare. Imagine it: You lay flat, cheek pressed against the dusty edge of a cliff. Your outstretched hand grips that of a tiny child. Fingers clench hard and white. Then slip. The child falls. Sweat-drenched, you wake before the body shatters against the stone below.
Friday, September 26, 2014
Editorial: Nightmare of a DCF
Editorial: Nightmare of a DCF
It has become like a nightmare. Imagine it: You lay flat, cheek pressed against the dusty edge of a cliff. Your outstretched hand grips that of a tiny child. Fingers clench hard and white. Then slip. The child falls. Sweat-drenched, you wake before the body shatters against the stone below.
It has become like a nightmare. Imagine it: You lay flat, cheek pressed against the dusty edge of a cliff. Your outstretched hand grips that of a tiny child. Fingers clench hard and white. Then slip. The child falls. Sweat-drenched, you wake before the body shatters against the stone below.
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