Part I: The Motion That Does Not Yield
The letter arrived in October of 1846, and it came from Dublin. Patrick O'Sullivan read it by the light of a tallow candle that had been burning for three days--the kind of candle that smells of rendered fat and gives off a yellow, wavering flame that makes the walls of the small classroom look as though they are breathing. "Potatoes failing," the letter said. Just those four words. Four words...
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