In my childhood I was devoted to stories of men who overcame terrible
obstacles to win the hand of the princess; dogs with eyes like saucers, dogs with eyes the size of dinner plates, dogs with eyes as big as cartwheels. They always came in threes. I did not know then that they were tidied-up versions of ancient mythology. In my childhood, nobody talked about myths and legends. They were just stories. The job of explaining life was left to science, but science eventually failed the test. So did politics, of course. And love. And property. And journalism just went on begging the question.
So
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