laika

“There was something outside the house that was clearly murderous and looked just like me. There was something inside me that was clearly murderous and felt nothing like me.”
― Shane Hawk, Never Whistle at Night: An Indigenous Dark Fiction Anthology

“Q: What is the past tense of “lived”?

A: Once, I looked back and purchased vowel after vowel. I devoured the minutes which had already been dripping from my teeth. I smashed the fruit against the bowl and called it “salvage.” I retraced my steps, then retraced the retracing. What could I have done? I’ll say it every night before the day slips into rot: What could I have done?”
― Franny Choi, The World Keeps Ending, and the World Goes On

“Imagine, I can't stop saying. Imagine, I beg,
when I should have said, Look: paradise
is both a particle and a wave. You don't have
to believe in something for it to startle you awake.”
― Franny Choi, The World Keeps Ending, and the World Goes On

“Alone and night-neoned, I write read drink drug grieve and all America keeps teaching me
is that there are so many ways to die in America which, frankly, is qwhite confusing
because this country killed you a decade ago and I’m still writing reading drinking
drugging grieving binging binging blacking out in the cozy, claustrophobic home
I’ve made out of how very, very much I miss you and the sky keeps throwing
down consequences and corrections and histories and nations, I mean,
come on, who can blame me for not wanting to go back outside?”
― Saeed Jones, Alive at the End of the World