As a very irregularly-shaped human with zero Google-readable nanoparticles running through my bloodstream and no desire to put techies in charge of my immune system ever, I have no reason to admire them, or to buy into their carefully worded, self-serving lies.
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In a world driven by financial self-preservation, truth-telling is a commercial affair. Truth, the edited version, hello.
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The sense of sanity is gone.
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Our masters don’t mind our fighting with each other for the leftovers from their table.
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With gratitude to all my good ancestors, Please guide me and please help me do this right. I am voicing a very strong objection to politicizing our intimate reactions to the pandemic. We are all dealing with an existential crisis, and adding...
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Imagine trying to get happy on a tight deadline. Like you have ten minutes to get happy, or else your boss is going to punish you.
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This story is about the Russian women and our cross-generational strengths, weaknesses, courage, and servitude.
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Imagine, you have a nice basket. You carry food in it. But then it starts telling you what food to get (using “Basket Rules”).
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Pick your brand of destruction!
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