Murder doesn’t make sense. I hope you don’t ever have to make sense of it. In fact, I pray that you don’t.

Because it doesn’t. 

And if you try to make sense of it, and justify it or rationalize it, it steals a part of your soul. 

Someone I know, one of my colleagues and teammates was murdered this week. And I only met her a few months ago.  

But it still doesn’t make sense.  Nor should it. Because murder is senseless. It’s incapable of sense.

Murder doesn’t make sense.  

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