Sex Finds Us. Sex Sees Through Us.

It Is All Falling Indelibly Into The Past.

Out Of Some Persistent Sense Of Large-scale Ruin, We Kept Inventing Hope.

I Think Fiction Recues History From Its Confusions.

The Question Of Dying Becomes A Wise Reminder. It Cures Us Of Our Innocence Of The Future.

I Think That The Massive, Overarching, Interconnected Systems Of Technology Tend To Make Us A Little Insecure, Somewhat Pliable, And Susceptible To Half-beliefs.