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it whispers

Ōtomo no Yakamochi (Vol. 19, poem 4291) in Man’yōshū.   Currently I’m dipping my toes and fingernails in the realm of the impossible. The one where boundaries live. Maybe the true ghost realm (for me?). The one that’s easily forgotten, but once known, turns towards you with a painful weird sort of vengeance. Slippery, only vaguely …

Remembrance of Earth’s Past

  Liu Cixin has made me question every sci-story every invented for its lack of vision. Cixin’s The Three Body Problem was so grand in scope, so truly “hard sci-fi” yet at the same time managed to capture humanity, individualism, doubt uncertainty, unfailing hope. All while narrating the start and end of our entire universe (as …

I said to myself, you can’t shatter open

“I said to myself, you can’t shatter open.” A sentence in Esme Weijung Wang’s The Border of Paradise. I told myself this often enough, I cannot shatter; even the smallest cracks weren’t allowed. And then. Not cracks. No shattering. Disintegration. Myself, my world and the chilling after-waves, still rippling across everyone and thing I was near. …