A very touching and sad story of assisted suicide and suicide. Harry Horse had a wonderful, dreamy style of art that really did captivate me – I always enjoyed it when the New Yorker ran his pieces. I (of course) had no idea his wife was so sick; sadly, this is already being dragged through the media mud as cause for (or against) assisted suicide laws. Too bad people just can’t let the poor folks rest in peace, at least for a bit, before debating the merits of the law as it stands, or they feel it should be.
Thanks to modern society, we’re all Frankenstein’s monster. None of us fit.
— Nick Mamatas
Seek And Find. Maybe.
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