These sentences of Elif Shafak are a fitting description this week:
at this important crossroads, literature has to be not only analysis after the event but also analysis during the event.
I’ve had many friends express some version of “this, too, shall pass,” over the last 60 hours, that is the last two and a half days.
For all the choices I have made and all the things that I have not needed to do, I am being pressed to do certain things this week that I haven’t had to do before.
I am not numb. Not yet. Maybe never. But I’m also not fool enough to say, “that will never come to pass.” That’s why I’ve always known there was a possibility of this week’s drama happening.
I was reading last night how considerable harm, most violence is done by people known to each other, not strangers.
washing dishes: a father’s glimpses 