Maybe loneliness was imprinted in my genes, lying dormant for years but now coming into full bloom.
Karen Thompson WalkerA man should enjoy things if he can; he should spend his final days in the sun. Mine will be spent by a reading lamp.
Karen Thompson WalkerThe real catastrophes are always different-unimaginable, unprepared for, unknown
Karen Thompson WalkerTag: catastrophes
Of my grandfather's eighty-six years on the planet, he had lived two of them in Alaska...But those two years had expanded, sponge-like, in his memory, overtaking much of the rest. Whole decades had passed in California without producing a single worthy anecdote
Karen Thompson WalkerSeth and I used to like to picture how our world would look to visitors someday, maybe a thousand years in the future, after all the humans are gone and all the asphalt has crumbled and peeled away. We wondered what thise visitors would find here. We liked to guess at what would last. Here the indentations suggesting a vast network of roads. Here the deposits of iron where giant steel structures once stood, shoulder to shoulder in rows, a city. Here the remnants of clothing and dishware, here the burial grounds, here the mounds of earth that were once people's homes.
But among the artifacts that will never be found - among the objects that will disintegrate long before anyone from elsewhere arrives - is a certain patch of sidewalk on a Californian street where once, on a dark afternoon in summer at the waning end of the year of the slowing, two kids knelt down together on the cold ground. We dipped our fingers in the wet cement, and we wrote the truest, simplest things we knew - our names, the date, and these words: We were here.
Tag: life
What I understood so far about this life was there were the bullies and the bullied, the hunters and the hunted, the strong and the stronger and the weak
Karen Thompson WalkerWe were like wanderers in a desert, blessed with a rare downpour, but unable to store the rain.
Karen Thompson WalkerTag: fiction science-fiction
This had become a game of ours. We were serious kids made more so by the times.
Karen Thompson WalkerSomething similar had happened once to the bees. This was only a few years before the slowing began. Millions of honeybees had died. Hives found abandoned, inexplicably empty. Whole colonies had vanished in the breeze. No one ever did conclusively pinpoint the cause of the collapse.
Karen Thompson WalkerI could no longer remember the way my mother's eyes looked before the slowing. Had they always been so red around the edges? Surely, those pockets of gray beneath her lower lashes were new. She still wasn't sleeping well, but perhaps what I was seeing was just age, a gradual shift that I'd failed to register. I sometimes felt the urge to study recent photographs of her in order to locate the exact point in time when she had come to look so weary.
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