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“The thought of your disembodied network repulses me, but I look at you, Red, and see much of myself: a desire to be apart, sometimes, to under stand who I am without the rest. And what I retum to, the me-ness that I know as pure, inescapable self is hunger. Desire. Longing, this longing to possess, to become, to break like a wave on a rock and reform, and break again, and wash away. This is a necessary part of any ecosystem, but it unsettles others, this inability to be satisfied. It is diffcult-it is very difficult, to befriend where you wish to consume, to find those who, when they ask "Do I have you still", when they end a letter with "Yours", mean it in any substantive way.” — Max Gladstone
The thought of your disembodied network repulses me, but I look at you, Red, and see much of myself: a desire to be apart, sometimes, to under stand who I am without the rest. And what I retum to, the me-ness that I know as pure, inescapable self is hunger. Desire. Longing, this longing to possess, to become, to break like a wave on a rock and reform, and break again, and wash away. This is a necessary part of any ecosystem, but it unsettles others, this inability to be satisfied. It is diffcult-it is very difficult, to befriend where you wish to consume, to find those who, when they ask "Do I have you still", when they end a letter with "Yours", mean it in any substantive way.