Sunday, April 26, 2020 at 1:52PM
Drew Wolfe

Nalo Hopkinson

Beauty and ingenuity beat perfection hands down, every time.

The heaviness of loss in her heart hadn't eased, but there was room there for humour, too.

My friend Ian Hagemann, a regular at Wiscon, once said on a panel that when he reads science fiction futures that are full of white people and no one else, he wonders when the race war happened that wiped out the majority of the human race, and why the writer hasn’t mentioned such an important plot point.

How do I know anything? How is it that my arms stretched out in front of me are so pale? How to I even know that they should be brown like riverbank mud, as they were when I was many goddesses with many worshippers, ruling in lands on the other side of a great, salty ocean? I used to be many, but now we are one, all squeezed together, many necks in one coffle.

You folk are so finicky about time, living it in straight lines like that.

Suck all the juice this life will give!



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