Against the building, coffins were stacked row upon row, ten feet high and nearly as deep from an end of the wall that was bathed in the glow of a dim orange light, to the other, where darkness hid wherever the procession ceased. They were empty. Most of the corpses had already been moved elsewhere. But there would be another wave after the day’s demolition. They’d given up on finding any more alive.
American linguist, Massachusetts Institute of Technology professor, and modern-day de Tocqueville, Noam Chomsky, composes essays of such a signature character that they deserve their own name, which I elect should be noam. That term introduced, I can proceed to my true purpose, which is to argue that while Professor Chomsky’s latest noam, “Can Civilization Survive [...]
Shed a tear if you must, even just inside, for one knee-jerk moment of vulnerability. Like I did as I read this op-ed by Tom Englehardt on the recent disappointing climate change rally in DC. Climate change is my work. I wish it didn’t feel as though it had to be. There’s so much I’d [...]
This one wasn’t quivering, his arms and hands trembling as they lay across his chest. This one was still, lying in the road as rivulets of blood dried on his face while paramedics assessed the damage. The indentation in the front windshield of the car that struck him was massive and shaped like a human being rolled up into a ball, like in a fetal position. What if the glass hadn’t held, I wondered.