


The age has found its story and it is not him. The war is three weeks old; a capital is holding; and on the sixteenth another president — younger, at war, broadcasting from a city under fire — speaks to the chamber through a phone camera and brings it to its feet. It is everything the silent account is not: a man whose entire power is a working connection between his voice and the world. In Florida the television flickers late into the night, and the phone on the side table stays face-down. The waiting list does not move. The account holds its single post, now five weeks old.
Readers' Corner
Letters from the readership on Week 353. Pick a pen name — no account needed.
Opening the mailbag…