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Steven Spielberg and Liam Neeson on-set of Schindler’s List (1993)

Imagine the air so thick with wokeness you can mold it in your hands like clay. It smells of ozone, ozone and oud and a bit of wild sage. It sticks to your hair a little. The sun is too bright. Jeff Davis has been dug up and hanged from a pawpaw tree in Kentucky. On Wall Street, a leading firm tries to juice its diversity quotas by manipulating a female Arab exec into developing dissociative identity disorder. The malarkey is discovered and the firm liquidated by the Secretary of Labor, a small Indian man with shining eyes and a beautiful smile. All is well. The exec is made Undersecretaries of Neurodivergence. Neurospicy. Listen, Jack. They told me I was mad. Some of you guys are alright. Don't watch the State of the Union. (The Zohrandate of Heaven settles uneasily across the Hudson River like the woke fog of morning, like a python about to consume its aging keeper.) All is well. Don't try to understand the press releases. Mandela is here. Somewhere in Indiana, small Black children watched over by serenely poststructuralist schoolpeople throw a brick through the window of a police station. The sound tinkles across the country like laughter, like song. All is well, and all manner of thing shall be well. God is in their heaven, and everything is vaxxed on Earth.

I really like pearl for this post alone

I can finally start posting what i did for Knife's Edge Zine! (ps. leftover sales are up if you want something: @knifesedgezine) Here's a cropped version of the wallpaper I did based on the poster art for Blood of Dracula!

pocky game but nothing can be just a simple challenge between these two

Callum Turner for The Glass Magazine