The Leaving of Facebook

Why would anyone delete their Facebook account? That’s a question some people have asked me since I jumped out of the shark-tank, a month or so ago. More people, though, have told me they’d like to, or they’ve thought about it, but they can’t. They need it. There is no alternative. Leaving it will make them feel bad.

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On Reflection

It was their happy ending. Stephen and Sarah signed into the hotel in Venice as Mr & Mrs Russell, and it was the first time they had ever done that, and they smiled. They marvelled at the splendour of the place they had chosen from the brochure in the travel agent’s. They brought their bags in from the shuttle bus. They were looking forward to their honeymoon. 

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No Raymond Chandler

I sat at my desk, flicking through the Times and wondering how I was going to make the rent. Taking in washing suggested itself. Then Doris buzzed in a couple of potential clients. The tall one was wringing his cap in his hands like a washcloth after a shower. The other, shiny faced and fat, fixed me with an eye like a raisin in dough. He must have been the brains. 

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