The Machine Cannot Hold
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The old YARID offices, before the move to the current premises, were on a second floor above a hardware stall. By eight in the morning the room smelled of the first rain, the cheap Nescafé someone had brewed on the hot plate, and the chapati oil from the stalls below. On the morning I am going to tell you about, I had come to that room with an implementation plan, a funded timeline, a consent form, and the professional confidence of a person who had walked a version of this meeting many times.
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