Sublime

This innocent man who spent thirty years on death row teaches me as much about forgiveness as Archbishop Tutu. They both suffered and they both let it ennoble them rather than embitter them.

Lewis was beaten and, lying on the pavement, was ready to die. Yet he survived,

Roy and the old couple, Harvey and Rita, were the only ones left. They brought Roy to New York when he was barely twenty-five and set him up running “errands” now and again for some heavy people in Brooklyn. As a rule, they didn’t trust him with anything too complicated, on account of they didn’t think Roy was all that bright. Outside of Albert, no

“My old friend,” Albert said. “The one I wake up every morning thinking about.” “How do you know?” “Same way I know everything. CNN.” “Harvey said he was dead.” “Yes, well, he looked pretty healthy to me. Before he got shot anyway.” “Someone shot him?” “A little gangster, in L.A. somewhere.” “You positive?” “There isn’t a doubt in my mind.” “Fuckin