Uniformity is a mask for fear. Across a world flirting with tyranny, truth is drowned and obedience sold as strength. I argue the opposite. Diversity, disagreement and the courage to think are not our weakness, they are the only path to survival and renewal.
Survival is not his aim. He wishes dispersion, atomisation, the kind of ending that leaves nothing for mourners to gather around.
It felt like baptism. Like we'd finally burned away everything false, everything careful, everything that kept us from this terrible, perfect truth.
There’s a hunger that lives only in absence, in the pause between your steps, in the untouched half of the pillow where I bury my face and inhale whatever’s left of you, your perfume decaying into something sweeter, sadder, more mine the longer you stay away