Daughter and Sun
In brief, a community shuns a girl as one of the undead when music splits her from her shadow. Given my interests these days, quite the Lacanian.
While waiting for the bus this morning we learned with the protagonist that all hands of Zombay’s Captains of the Guards–including those still alive, having traded in theirs for gearwork–are kept in the local reliquary.
Violet and I shared a smile over that passing detail, which, in a beautiful moment–sniff sniff–permitted me the gap to introduce her to steampunk–gear-powered computers, the future in the past, &tc. Vi, putting the past into the future, declared her computers would be powered by the sun.
And so, this gray morning, off the edge of many of our planet’s ecological precipices, we glide onto the dystopic hope of a punked sun.