This is the sort of honest communication between the generations that has the potential to do more good than the wasted hundreds of millions spent on conflict resolution ever could.
I’ve waited some time before putting pen to paper.
The death of a young woman, not much older than my daughter, is hard.
Murder is harder still.
When I got the news, at two in the morning, I did not sleep again that night.
I was introduced to Lyra about five years ago.There could be be fewer similarities.
I met this small, owlish, slightly diffident girl, in a Victoria Square coffee shop. She met a grumpy old man , with issues and a background. She had many difficulties with technology, which we laughed about. She was softly spoken, and I’m slightly deaf.
I was hoping that she could introduce me to contacts that might progress my enquiries into the murders of my parents. This she did.
Despite the disparity in our ages and in our experience of the world, she dispensed sage advice about me and my predicament. She was…
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