As I grew, so did the fires, it seemed, until recently L.A. burned, and the child in me wondered what would happen to the fallout, if the ashes and smoke would drift northeast, settle here in Boston, contaminate the air.
Last summer, it seemed to. Hate came in a maelstrom, and we called it several things - racism, pedophilia, justice, righteousness - but all those words were just ribbons and wrapping paper on a soiled gift that no one wanted to open.
People died last summer. Most of them innocent. Some more guilty than others.