In witnessing this wreckage here in the South, and tracing the lines from our storms to our prisons, I finally understand Octavia Butler's Parables not as prophecy, but as an autopsy. Butler's scalpel laid bare, in her time, the corpse of our present—a South where unceasing disaster is not an exception, but an expectation.
Palestine
Posted inARTS & SOUL
Memory Work
Posted inARTS & SOUL
Dying on Future Street
Posted inSCALAWAG UPDATES
