(Upon reading “Mind at the End of Its Tether” by H.G. Wells) Saith the Sage,there is no Shape of Things to Come;there is only the Coming of Shapelessness.Maps crumple—yea, and also the landscapes they signify—into dimensionless wads of nothing;the clock’s hands are blurred the whole way round;the eons snap their fingers in our faces.The very […]