I started writing to you about a week ago, but as I set the draft aside for a few hours, more unsettling news came from America. What I had put on paper felt instantly dated, and I lost my thread.
But then — what was the thread?
I had begun, I think, by saying how sorry I was for the America I once knew. The one I still love.
As you no doubt saw, Trump was in France this week — in Évian, for the G7. And what an entrance it was. I found myself caught between grief and something I struggle to name.
What a sad display. What a humiliating performance from the man so many still call the world’s most powerful.
I lack the word for him now. Disheveled, vacant, tired-looking — and no longer merely lying.
We’ve passed that threshold. There’s no longer any border between a conscious lie and an actual loss of contact with reality.
His defense of the MOU with Iran may be the single most humiliating moment in 250 years of American diplomatic history. What a gift to those who wish to mark the difference in standards.
I hope I’m not turning the knife in your wound. But you deserve better. America deserves better.
And I find I have no forgiveness left — not for the people who voted for him.
The “because Kamala… because Biden… because the Democrats” excuses hold nothing for me. None of it.
He told everyone who he was, loudly, repeatedly, for years. There were no surprises.
Only choices.
Between the Lines 
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