The world beyond is a hazy, indistinct sphere radiating a weak light, riddled through with discordant voices and images that cut across eyes and minds like a razor blade, and none of us able to even blink. It seems a myth, a kind of mythic tragedy, a lie, that anyone lives there still. Someday the fish and the falcon, the fox and the owl will tell tales, in their way, of this disembodied globe of light and what it contained, all the poison and all the grief that leaked out of it. If human language meant anything, it might be worth recounting to the waves or to the sky, but what’s the point? - from Acceptance, out in September
Posted on: Sun, 11 May 2014 17:52:53 +0000
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