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readings: essays, articles & short stories pt. 2

the winter of civilisation

fruits we'll never taste, languages we'll never hear: the need for needless complexity

emily dickinson and the creative solitude of space

the lost art of looking at nature

the bowl, the ram and the folded map: navigating the complicated world

ada limón on preparing the body for a reopened world

before it was 'bittersweet', nostalgia was seen as a parasite

why alien languages could be far stranger than we imagine

the fig leaf, benjamin shane evans

cat pianos, sound-houses, and other imaginary musical instruments

of shark moves, shell shocks, and trash landings on the moon

as bright as a feather — ostriches, home dyeing, and the global plume trade

getting ahead, jonas karlsson

do these florida dolphins have a language?

the form of a demon and the heart of a person: kitagawa utamaro's prints of yamauba and kintarō (ca. 1800)

who needs ai text-generation when there's erasmus of rotterdam

when memories from fiction become part of who you are

how do transgender people remember their earlier selves?

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Dreamlike Laughter

Reality kisses his sleepless nights, until he dreams of her again.

“Really wish you weren’t here anymore, love,” Milas tells Zimi, sitting by the window of his apartment. When he squints outside, the moonlight gleams too sharply off of the blades of grass. 

He needs to tell her tonight. Right here in the dreamscape she made for them to meet across the mountains and rivers between. 

She barks out a short laugh, but her shoulders hunch. She begins, “I don’t know who I can trust enough to practice this type of spell. I truly didn’t know I was bothering, hones—”

‘I miss sneaking mom’s pastries to you and spending all night awake because you got a new board game and you’re a horrible, horrible cheater and.’ Words. Words tangle in his mouth, so he blurts out, ‘And, I miss all the ands.’

Quick as a wildfire, she grasps his face with both her hands. He never feels them, but he can see her dark eyes looking into his sandy ones. In these moments, he thinks her a phantom. That the sentinels who swore their loyalty to her killed her before she could cross the city’s borders. With their history, the years stretching like scars on knobby knees and dolls, he could create something real enough to fool him. 

Something creaks, like twigs snapping under a wheel. It takes Milas back to the evening before, his hand digging into Elijah’s wheelchair, light stubble not smooth skin, and soft hair brown not black under his hands. When he pulls away abruptly, she puts her hands up in surrender. 

The view outside the window fades into fog, but so do the corners of his room. He needs to tell her. 

‘I’m sorry, Kazimiera’ he chokes out. ‘I don’t deserve you.’ He slips onto his knees. Promises broken in a heartbeat, heartbeats jackrabbitting with Elijah’s laugh and the way he calls him endearments in something called French, and Milas was such a fool for the litany of mon chou, trésor, amour. 

After a pause she says, ‘You kissed someone? ’

He shakes his head vehemently, ‘I didn’t, but I wanted to. I almost did.’

The world stills, or maybe it’s too loud in his head: exile, treason, Elijah. The fog obscures his vision until he can’t see anything past the table. 

She grins up at him as if he’s the stupidest person on the planet, and asks, ‘And selfishly hoard your heart all to myself? I couldn’t fit it in the biggest rooms of the palace.’

All air rushes out of his lungs in a sharp exhale, dizzy with relief until he is gasping in short breaths—her forgiveness cooling the splinters under his skin. 

When she leans forward to speak in his ear to tell her about him, he is back at the couch with a flickering lamp’s terrible wiring. 

He is still talking about him when the fogs submerges him fully.

When he opens his eyes, Elijah’s laughter down the hallway is made of dreams. 

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i am become OR a sonnet for the macbeths

- Silas Denver Melvin @sweatermuppet, Grit Poetry Collection

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God this

Can I engulf each sigh from your starlit mouth until it dissolves into my blood? I swear I can feel it bubble with laughter when I do.