These are the longest days. Time moves in slow motion. An entire world waits with shallow breath, and the news never ends. Snippets of hope are dashed almost as quickly as they appear, only to be succeeded by fresh rumors of a peaceful exit. In a sense, it is all familiar. End games fascinate. In school, where we studied them attentively, the chapters were invariably titled "The Drift Toward War." The conclusions, too, were nearly uniform: If only there had been more time; if only the antagonists had understood one another better; if only the crisis had been nipped in the...
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