Underground Airlines

“A man like this?” I said softly. “What’re you? What’re you?”

Time makes things worse; bad is faster than good; wickedness is a weed and does not wither on its own—it grows and spreads.

shit gets worse. It doesn’t get better. It gets worse. Incidents ripple up, then they ripple away again.

A mark of solidarity: if we are all former slaves, then none of us is.