2020-10-18
My current favourite videogame is about a dysfunctional family.
When last did a single phrase—“good morning, my beautiful son”— reveal so much about so many?
If mere survival requires endless, exhausting performance, where does the energy to thrive come from?
I don’t know how to process how many people have died, are dying. I don’t know how to process callous, cruel indifference in the face of generational suffering.
Want to read the full issue?