The dragon named communism, the final boss of history.
Desire renders life like a poem: it collapses space and time, it calls into focus images, sensations, new voices and forms of seeing and saying something.
Perhaps the literary community needs a lot more of the absurd, even in spades, and perhaps especially in relation to economics.
From this angle, it’s almost as if the narrative itself—an ethereal ghost story and a cautionary tale about land grabs—is inconsequential to the book’s real currency: its paradoxically prominent underappreciation.
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