An Extinct Grammar

Perhaps the grand Inquisitor was correct. much of Ivan's monologue has proved prescient. While the samizdat discussion has cooled as the humidity has ascended, the riveting section before Zosima's has clung to me since.

I read Ishiguro's Never Let Me go the other day and while not overwhelmed was inspired to ponder the post-human while cycling about nightly. It is fair to say that I don't think that our detritus and our sentimentality are grounds for exceptionalism.

This burden, much like that of Witz's Benjamin, persists. I am now reading Margaret Atwood's Oryx and Crake. My tastes towards post apocalyptic letters are well known. Ms. Atwood's prose is nuanced and somehow familiar like a whispered story before bed.