Table of Contents | 18 May 2015
Zara’s response was the best one, when he told her his diagnosis. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry we as scientists haven’t fixed this yet. That we haven’t fucking solved it. We should have a cure.”She was so angry. At the world. At her scientific brethren. At human progress.
If I made something awesome and nobody saw it, there is some kind of sadness to that. Like a chef who made his best meal but nobody was around to taste it.
At times, writing this column is like performing open heart surgery on myself.
It turned out that people loved the idea of illustrations. After that story went live someone even made a donation specifically in the hopes that we would do more. . . . The only thing was that none of us (in the fiction department at least) knew anything about acquiring art.
White irises float on the darkening air / like ghosts of sturdier flowers
In this episode of the Strange Horizons podcast, editor Anaea Lay presents S. L. Huang's "By Degrees and Dilatory Time."
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