Transaction

j!1dirzgocAsru3SdhetQkEJraQgYTf5xQmentry.create@c41be36af9613750dec6f983f06d2f2a219dd4b57b1422a1d89a7fda256f9f9cname$Outside the Café, He Shook My Hand.link>https://www.lrb.co.uk/v38/n13/andrew-ohagan/the-satoshi-affairdescriptionMòI knew I would never see him again. For six months we had allowed each other to think we were friends – subjects need storytellers, and storytellers need subjects. There had been a time when he’d imagined that I could free him from his fictions and build him a new story in reality. I was a willing stenographer, thinking Wright was something perhaps bigger than Satoshi. He was the internet’s habit of self-dramatisation and self-concealment all at once; its new sort of persona. What he actually did may never be known. Either he’s one of the greatest computer scientists of his generation, or he’s a reckless opportunist, or he’s both. We can’t be sure. But there he was, standing in Old Compton Street in the pouring rain, saying sorry.