Oh, Jesus! How bloody long?

  • 2013-04-25
  • By Karlis Streips
It was Patriot’s Day in Massachusetts, and, as has been the case every year since 1897, the Boston Marathon was run. The top runners had long since passed the finish line, and the area around the line was crowded with people who were there to watch their friends or family members who were not professional runners come across with the great satisfaction of having run such a vast distance. You know what happened next. One boom, then another. Three people, including an eight-year-old boy lay dead. Countless people lay with shattered bodies and limbs ripped off. Two brothers each lost ...
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