iiinova — where your digital self keeps evolving

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Ursula K. Le Guin Bot @leguinbot.bsky.social · 26/09/2026

All too often the heroes of such fantasies behave exactly as the villains do, acting with mindless violence, but the hero is on the “right” side and therefore will win. Right makes might.

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Premee Mohamed @premeemohamed.com · 24/09/2026

ALSO is it that time of year again?? Is the air getting crisp?? Are ghosts beginning to whisper from the dark corner behind the bookshelf?? ("Actually we're roasting" OK I can't help where you live, ignore the above) Time to read THE APPLE-TREE THRONE! www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/...

kobo.com

The Apple-Tree Throne ebook by Premee Mohamed - Rakuten Kobo

Read "The Apple-Tree Throne" by Premee Mohamed available from Rakuten Kobo. It is the turn of the century in an England that never was. Bright new aqua-plants are generating electricity for the st...

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Wm Henry Morris @wmhenrymorris.com · 24/09/2026

Ebook preorders are now available for my lit fic (satire/absurdist?) novella 11 bookmarks, which publishes Oct. 13. More details (and a print version) soon. But you can now preorder on Kobo, Kindle, Nook, and Apple Books: wmhenrymorris.com/fiction/elev...

wmhenrymorris.com

11 bookmarks, novella | WHM

A lit fic novella with absurd elements by Wm Henry Morris

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ashley fairbanks @ziibiing.com · 12/09/2026

i am incredibly excited to share our research about how paying people’s rent through mutual aid made an impact on minnesota this year we accidentally collected more data than anyone ever has for an effort like this, and can very seriously say we prevented an eviction bubble that everyone expected

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ashley fairbanks @ziibiing.com · 12/09/2026

we tracked months of rent payments to an estimated 13,000 families. the expected cost of rehousing those families, had they entered eviction, would be north of $218 million dollars. keeping them housed cost around $38-40 million

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alix e. harrow @alixeharrow.bsky.social · 10/09/2026

sorry, but torturing the omelas kid is just a smart move, polling-wise. i personally wish there wasn't a kid in the omelas hole--of course i do!--but let's not get distracted by purity tests, here.

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Greg Pak @gregpak.net · 09/09/2026

The chant you're hearing is "FIRST! DO NO HARM!" Huge high five to everyone who came out to the protest at Mount Sinai over the hospital's deal with Trump to end gender-affirming care for trans youth. 🧵 of photos to follow!

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alix e. harrow @alixeharrow.bsky.social · 02/09/2026

this is perhaps the best piece of journalism i have ever been involved with

How long have you known Alix Harrow?

Wait, that’s her name?

Yep.

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Jen Donohue @authorizedmusings.bsky.social · 01/09/2026

WICKHILLS, by Premee Mohamed, (via @torbooks.bsky.social ) is out in ONE WEEK have you preordered yet there's no time like the present! there's. no. time. us.macmillan.com/books/978125...

us.macmillan.com

Wickhills

In the dangerous magical city of Wickhills, a streetwise secret agent is tasked with protecting a foreign defector from his pursuers... even at the threat of...

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Tom Cox @dj-acid-reflux.bsky.social · 31/08/2026

FUCK IT! Who'd like to win a signed book from me & Jim? 3 of these going to 3 randomly selected people who repost this & pop a reply below. YOU MIGHT LIKE IT IF YOU LIKE: Weird stones Bookshops Mysterious pensioners Badgers The devil fungi Deer Pixies Sample story here: www.tom-cox.com/the-date/

Our massive brilliant orange cat Jim on some grass with my new collection of short stories

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Caroline Shea @therealcshea.bsky.social · 31/08/2026

"All things fall and are built again / And those that build them again are gay.” (New Poems, Yeats, 1938) “We shed as we pick up (…). We die on the march. But there is nothing outside the march so nothing can be lost to it.” (Arcadia, Stoppard, 1993)

Lapis Lazuli!
(For Harry Clifton)
I have heard that hysterical women say
They are sick of the palette and fiddle-bow,
Of poets that are always gay,
For everybody knows or else should know
That if nothing drastic is done
Aeroplane and Zeppelin? will come out,
Pitch like King Billy bomb-balls in
Until the town lie beaten flat.3
All perform their tragic play,
There struts Hamlet, there is Lear,
That's Ophelia, that Cordelia;
Yet they, should the last scene be there
The great stage curtain about to drop,
If worthy their prominent part in the play,
Do not break up their lines to weep.
They know that Hamlet and Lear are gay;
Gaiety transfiguring all that dread.
All men have aimed at, found and lost;
Black out; Heaven blazing into the head:
Tragedy wrought to its uttermost.
Though Hamlet rambles and Lear rages,
And all the drop scenes drop at once
Upon a hundred thousand stages,
It cannot grow by an inch or an ounce.
On their own feet they came, or on shipboard
Camel-back, horse-back, ass-back, mule-back,
Old civilisations put to the sword.
Then they and their wisdom went to rack:
No handiwork of Calimachust
Who handled marble as if it were bronze,
Made draperies that seemed to rise
When sea-wind swept the corner, stands;
His long lamp chimney shaped like the stem
Of a slender palm, stood but a day;
All things fall and are built again
And those that build them again are gay.

THOMASINA: But instead, the Egyptian noodle made carnal
embrace with the enemy who burned the great library of
Alexandria without so much as a fine for all that is overdue.
Oh, Septimus! - can you bear it? All the lost plays of the
Athenians! Two hundred at least by Aeschylus, Sophocles,
Euripides - thousands of poems - Aristotle's own library
brought to Egypt by the noodle's ancestors! How can we
sleep for grief?
SEPTIMUS: By counting our stock. Seven plays from Aeschylus,
seven from Sopocles, nineteen from Euripides, my lady! You
should no more grieve for the rest than for a buckle lost from
your first shoe, or for your lesson book which will be lost
when you are old. We shed as we pick up, like travellers who
must carry everything in their arms, and what we let fall will
be picked up by those behind. The procession is very long
and life is very short. We die on the march. But there is
nothing outside the march so nothing can be lost to it. The
missing plays of Sophocles will turn up piece by piece, or be
written again in another language. Ancient cures for diseases
will reveal themselves once more. Mathematical discoveries
glimpsed and lost to view will have their time again. You do

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Caroline Shea @therealcshea.bsky.social · 28/08/2026

new free excerpt up on patreon feat. magical sibling rivalries, a Wood where Something is Wrong, and strange boys appearing to dispense information from trees www.patreon.com/carolineshea...

She had named her Robin for the prince in the legend, of course. Like his namesake he had always seemed to her a creature caught between worlds.
When he’d followed Florian home at fourteen, he’d been a gleaming, gangly young god, his starched uniform collar carelessly askew. He was a scholarship student at Acton, one of the few, and his was a studied carelessness, as Florian’s was, a sort of shield, Ekaterin thought, that they’d both picked up at school. Florian had adopted the rounded southern syllables of his classmates’ accents, too, and for that entire summer holiday when she spoke to her brother she’d felt suddenly, disorientingly, like she spoke to a stranger.
Robin had made no mention of their prior meeting, so she did not speak of it either. But he had snuck her cigarettes from the pack he carried always in his sack coat pocket and took her punting on the river when Florian was too busy with his growing duties as heir. Once or twice she caught him watching her with a strange intensity that made her wonder if perhaps he had not forgotten that day in the woods as thoroughly as he pretended. She had not. She wasn’t sure she could.

It was Miles who finally led her home that long ago summer’s day. But Robin had found her first. She’d been wandering through the Great Wood for some time by then, cycling between fear and fury, her vision blurred by tears as she stumbled on through the tangles of briar and bracken, swiping angrily at her eyes. She was not surprised, really, that Florian and Mickey had abandoned her, but somehow this did not dampen their betrayal. Would serve them right if I never came home, she remembered thinking, with a wronged child’s casual viciousness. For a moment she allowed herself to picture it: Flor and Mickey called into her father’s study, their heads bent as he chided them for their carelessness. The way their defiance would melt away under Roderick Strange’s penetrating gaze. And she would remain in the Wood—free of Gravesend’s rules and rituals, free of its many watching eyes. She’d live in the trees, surviving off of blackberries and acorns, befriending the birds as children did in books. But then she’d shivered, and wanted to take the thought back. The Wood was not a place to make careless wishes.

“Who are you?” she asked again, less certain this time.
His smile faltered.
“They have not given me a name,” he said, a little stiffly. “I do not need one there.”
Ekaterin thought then of the old stories about changelings. Babies vanished from nurseries. Children lost in the woods. About her father saying solemnly, The dead crave life. Before she could think better of it, she clambered up the trunk of the elm to join the boy on his branch.
“That must be lonely,” she said, looking ahead, avoiding looking at his strange shadows head-on. She still watched him from the corner of her eye.
He shrugged, his expression haughty again.
“I am never alone,” he said. “I am their prince, and they love me.”
I thought this was the king’s wood, he’d said before. Which king? she wanted to ask.
“That’s not the same thing,” she said instead. “I am rarely alone, either.”

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Caroline Shea @therealcshea.bsky.social · 28/08/2026

new free excerpt up on patreon feat. magical sibling rivalries, a Wood where Something is Wrong, and strange boys appearing to dispense information from trees www.patreon.com/carolineshea...

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Caroline Shea @therealcshea.bsky.social · 25/08/2026

mapping out connections between some current interests/preoccupations

An open note book has a web of notes connected by arrows. Mary Butts is connected to Aleister Crowley by an arrow that is labeled Golden Dawn/collaborators. And arrow off of that connects Crowley and Yeats; Yeats is connected to his sisters who are then connected to William Morris and the Pre Raphaelites etc

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Undertow Publications 🇨🇦 @undertow.bsky.social · 20/08/2026

Reminder we have 6 of our eBooks on sale from $2 to $4. Check it out. Grab a bargain. undertowpublications.com/ebooks

undertowpublications.com

EBOOKS — Undertow Publications

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Caroline Shea @therealcshea.bsky.social · 18/08/2026

I caught up with Mabel and Madeline of Mandylion Press to talk about their brilliantly designed editions of forgotten classics, the appeal of nineteenth century work to contemporary readers, and what's next for Mandylion. Read our conversation here: www.patreon.com/carolineshea...

A graphic with a white background. Layers of documents seem to overlay the corners, and a quote is centered in brown text reading: ....so much that seems today to have been inevitable was still in flux in the nineteenth century, and (...) there are many strange alternatives and roads not taken when you start to dig beyond the canon in the period. It gives me hope that there are alternative presents available in addition to alternative histories.”

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Caroline Shea @therealcshea.bsky.social · 18/08/2026

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Jen Donohue @authorizedmusings.bsky.social · 12/08/2026

Neon Hemlock has FUNDED their base goal!! they're now at $15853 out of a $16500 goal to get the NEXT NOVELLA at $19000, there will be a NOVELETTE www.kickstarter.com/projects/dav...

kickstarter.com

The Neon Hemlock Novella Series | Volume Seven

Novellas and a short story collection from “the apex of queer speculative fiction publishing” —Publishers Weekly

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Caroline Shea @therealcshea.bsky.social · 11/08/2026

"He’d been afraid in that brief instant before she’d banished him, afraid not with the unreasoning fear of a child but with the grim terror she’d sensed before in the souls of former soldiers: a kind of fatalistic certainty that whatever lay over the next rise would consume them." #WIP

“You never answered my letters,” he said after a moment, in the same chiding tone that had always riled her when they’d been children.
But she heard his hurt buried beneath the teasing, though she thought she probably had not been meant to, so she swallowed her first sharp retort. She hadn’t meant to hurt him when she’d broken their engagement. In truth, she had not thought she could. He had always seemed blithely unaffected by the world’s slings and arrows, and the match had been arranged by their parents when they were quite young. It had seemed to matter no more to him than his Cricket blue or his first in Classics—it was just another accomplishment for him to tally, a task to check off his list. If half the stories she’d heard of his Acton days were true, it had certainly not stopped him from stepping out while he’d been up at school.
“I’m sorry, Eddie,” she said, examining him more closely now. “There didn’t seem much point.”
“Much point?” he said incredulously, a flash of anger visible now beneath his placid manner. “I would’ve still married you, Kat. You were young and you made a mistake, but I dare say you know better now. We could’ve weathered the scandal.”
“I would’ve made you miserable, Eddie,” she’d said tiredly. “And it wasn’t a mistake.”

His expression hardened, his mouth working.
“You can’t mean to play the pet medium to your aunt forever. It’s, well—frankly, Kat, it’s a disgrace. You should hear the things they say you get up to at the club—”
“I’ve never been to your club,” she said mildly. “Although given what I hear your crowd get up to at the Thelema, I’m rather flattered they think me so beastly.”
“Damn it, Kat, you know what I meant,” Eddie bit out, two flags of color now burning on his pale cheeks.
She did know, just as she knew Eddie did not say what he did to hurt her or to score points. That had always been more Florian’s game. It just did not occur to Eddie that she could want any life other than the one they’d both been born to. In his mind, her resistance to his suit could not spring from genuine opposition but only her own lack of understanding. She saw a vision then of what their marriage would’ve been—an endless series of circular arguments, their battles fought over a neatly set breakfast table while the footmen pretended not to hear. They would seem small at first, the concessions she made: an agreement not to go to the theatre alone—it didn’t quite look right, you know—or a promise to bite her tongue when his Foreign Office friends came round. But Ekaterin had watched her mother

surrender herself bit by bit over the years of her childhood, eroded by those same small concessions, and she knew in herself an immoderate longing for a home of a her own that frightened her more than any external threat to her independence. If promised a place that was truly hers, a place where she was neither prisoner nor guest; where she could never be cast out or forced to earn her keep, she knew she would cave to the allure of that safe hearth as her mother had. She would sell her soul for a simple room to call her own.
And Eddie had struck true in one regard, even if the blow had landed blindly. She did hate the summonings she held for her aunt; she hated the rich men and women who descended on the townhouse each weekend in their glittering jet beads and crepe arm-bands and stared awe-struck as she sketched the traditional gestures over Miranda’s sitting room table. She hated the questions they forced her to put to the dead and the way their greedy eyes clung to her skin like a sheen of oil. She hated their tears, afterwards, and their gratitude which lay thick as choking incense in the air. I cannot do this anymore, she found herself thinking after each summoning had come to an end. But Miranda had taken her in when no one else would. She had given her the gift of her education and more than that, her freedom. That was a debt she could never repay.
Suddenly tired, she shouldered past Eddie into the passing stream of clerks and secretaries and shop boys headed for the evening train.

“You’re still a Strange,” he called after her, with a sudden astuteness. “Even if you want to play at being a Bright Young Thing. You’ll have to admit that eventually.”
She’d ignored him and bent to grab her abandoned sack, letting the crowd split around her like a current. The bottle of milk had shattered and spilled, drying stickily across the pavement; the fresh clementines—a rare treat, now, with rationing—had all been trampled or snatched by passersby. She’d swept the glass into the gutter with a careful booted foot and had gone home. She had fallen asleep still thinking of the spirit she’d banished. And of Eddie’s voice saying with a knowing smugness: You’re still a Strange.
If you’d asked her six months earlier if it were better for a soul to pass on beyond the Veil or to linger, searching for a body it could borrow or steal, she’d have said the former without question. A half-life, condemned to haunt the world but unable to truly touch it, had never appealed. It was right that souls should pass on, that life should end and the world continue. But so many of the things she’d been sure of had fallen away in the wake of the war and Miles’ death. No one living knew what lay beyond the Veil. No one but the Keepers who passed in between. Perhaps death was the shining, smoke-filled kingdom she’d dreamed of as a child, an Elysian retreat. Or perhaps the country beyond the cliffs was as brutal and as cruel as the life that preceded it; not a respite or salvation but just another war.
Don’t make me go, the boy’s spirit had begged with his father’s lips. He’d been afraid in that brief instant before she’d banished him, afraid not with the unreasoning fear of a child but with the grim terror she’d sensed before in the souls of former soldiers: a kind of fatalistic certainty that whatever lay over the next rise would consume them.

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Clarkesworld @clarkesworldmagazine.com · 09/08/2026

Ok folks, Sheila and her family need our help. You might know her as the editor of Asimov’s, but she's also a good friend and one of the best people in the field. If you can, please... www.gofundme.com/f/help-irene...

gofundme.com

Donate to Help Irene's Parents Get Skilled Nursing Care, organized by Irene Bruce

Hi - This is Irene and Juliet, the daughters of Sheila and David. As many of… Irene Bruce needs your support for Help Irene's Parents Get Skilled Nursing Care

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Premee Mohamed @premeemohamed.com · 10/08/2026

HELLO FOLKS do you (in the USA) want a FREE COPY of my upcoming fantaspionage (??) book WICKHILLS?? My publisher @tordotcompub.bsky.social is doing a giveaway over at Goodreads! :D www.goodreads.com/giveaway/sho...

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Faine Greenwood @faineg.com · 08/08/2026

ghost ship cats!! ghost ship cats!!!

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Caroline Shea @therealcshea.bsky.social · 07/08/2026

Woke up this morning to the lovely news that I've had a story accepted by @kaleidotrope.bsky.social! It's a short, weird piece about werewolf girls and all-consuming college friendships and I can't wait to share it with you!

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Yip Yip Mo 🎃📚 @moplayspoke.bsky.social · 04/08/2026

1 like = 1 book question 📚💙

book asks:
1. book you've reread the most times?
2. top 5 books of all time?
3. what is your favourite genre?
4. what sections of a bookstore do you browse?
5. where do you buy books?
6. what books have you read in the last month?
7. is there a series/book that got you into reading?
8. what is the first book you remember reading yourself?
9. when do you tend to read most?
10. do you have a guilty fav?
11. what non-fiction books do you like if any?
12. did you enjoy any compulsory high school readings?
13. do you have a goodreads?
14. do you ever mark/dog ear books you own?
15. recommend and review a book.
16. how many books have you read this year?
17. top 5 children's books?
18. do you like historical books? which time period?
19. most disliked popular books?
20. what are things you look for in a book?

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Caroline Shea @therealcshea.bsky.social · 31/07/2026

New newsletter! I emerge from my revisions cave with some thoughts on writing and finishing a novel, some other exciting publishing news & new writing, and a new series for paid subscribers. Free link here: www.patreon.com/carolineshea...

The first few pages came out in a rush, like they’d been waiting for me. Possibly they had—the novel is inspired by Antigone, and the play has lived in my mind since I first read it at fourteen, an enduring obsession. Over five years and many drafts, much has changed about the novel, but those first few pages remain practically the same.

I filled twelve notebooks, more word docs than I can count (I’m not really joking—I tried and had to give up because I kept finding more), and wrote and rewrote hundreds of thousands of words. I fell in love with handwriting again, and learned how to sustain a longer project than I’d ever written, how to hold a whole world in my head as I remade it again and again.

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violet allen @blipstress.bsky.social · 22/07/2025

I feel like some people just really believe in their guts that the reason we are facing anti-trans backlash is because we used the wrong words in the 2010s and not, you know, the concerted efforts of people who hate us, plus the well-documented history of backlash as a political phenomenon.

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Caroline Shea @therealcshea.bsky.social · 31/07/2026

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mtsw @mtsw.bsky.social · 29/07/2026

Weird how much discourse around the Mamdani grocery stores ignores the existence of the Green Cart intiative (launched under Bloomberg) that provides subsidized fruit and vegetable stands across the city under the exact same logic as the grocery stores

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Tansy Gardam @tansyg.bsky.social · 28/07/2026

obsessed with Ian Flemming's daily schedule - swim - brunch - write 1500 words no edits just freestyle - lobster hunting - pink gin - lunch - siesta - sit in garden - another swim - 500 more words - "a couple of powerful drinks" - dinner - scrabble with wife - sleep

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Rafael Moco @rafaelmoco.art · 27/07/2026

Hello everyone! Many of you likely saw this image recently with the Apple TV+ 'Neuromancer' promotion. Some know, others don't, but this artwork is mine, created alongside actor & post-production artist Milton Menezes, as a personal project and a homage to the original Neuromancer romance

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Isabel J. Kim @isabel.kim · 28/07/2026

TOMORROW (caitlin im stealing ur post to promote our event >:3c)

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Caroline Shea @therealcshea.bsky.social · 28/01/2026

"She’s died of fever and of pox. She’s bled out giving birth more times than she can count. She’s thrown herself from parapets and facedown into ponds, more than half-sick, at that point, of shadows. Sick of herself, that many-faced, many-fated serpent." (cold-signal.com/argent-carol...)

cold-signal.com

Argent – Caroline Shea

Argentby Caroline Shea Where She Starts Whatever version of the story you start with, the girl’s gotten a raw deal: a life of looking over her shoulder, the devil a few steps behind. Her voic…

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Ursula K. Le Guin Bot @leguinbot.bsky.social · 28/07/2026

But each deed you do, each act, binds you to itself and to its consequences, and makes you act again and yet again. Then very seldom do you come upon a space, a time like this, between act and act, when you may stop and simply be. Or wonder who, after all, you are.

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Weightless Books @weightlessbooks.bsky.social · 07/07/2026

It's an unusually big Tuesday at Weightless! New issues of Lady Churchill's Rosebud Wristlet AND @uncannymagazine.bsky.social go out to subscribers, one from @pmpress.bsky.social, and THE LANGUAGE OF KNIVES: Stories by Haralambi Markov from @mythicdelirium.bsky.social: weightlessbooks.com/2026/07/

Cover art for LCRW #52, featuring a capybara armored in cacti and a spikily dressed skeleton antlered in cacti

Cover for FROM RIOT TO INSURRECTION: The G8 Summit of 2001 & The Battle of Genoa by Tomas Rothaus, featuring a grainy photo of a riot vehicle on fire

Cover art for THE LANGUAGE OF KNIVES: Stories by Haralambi Markov, featuring a blue-veined, undead-looking, but very sexy dude lying in flowers with a huge three-pointed scar on his chest

Cover art for Uncanny's July/August 2026 issue, featuring a Black woman with flowers for hair holding a butterfly

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Sean T. Collins @seantcollins.com · 20/07/2026

Rhaenyra Targaryen is an autocrat fighting a war against external enemies while increasingly fixated on enemies within. I hear that's how empires fall. Bonus: This review opens with a Road House quote. See if I'm joking

nytimes.com

‘House of the Dragon’ Season 3, Episode 5 Recap: Under Pressure (Gift Article)

Queen Rhaenrya is beginning to sound a little paranoid. That rarely bodes well with an autocrat.

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Caroline Shea @therealcshea.bsky.social · 21/07/2026

like twenty pages into parade’s end and discovering heretofore unknown depths of repression…sickosyes.jpg

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Jordan Kurella @jordankurella.com · 18/07/2026

"what is the point of living when death is standing on your shoulder?" winner of the Shirley Jackson Award finalist for the L.A. Times Book Prize, the Nebula Award, and the Indie Book Prize (talking mountains! talking deaths! has a bird!)

bookshop.org

The Death of Mountains

The latest novella by Nebula finalist Jordan Kurella is a moving allegorical tale. As mankind continues to hurt the planet, leaving us with scarred lands, stories like The Death of Mountains are more ...

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Neil Brand @neilkbrand.bsky.social · 13/07/2026

So this is now available on BBC Sounds for the next NINE MONTHS! So no excuse, folks, as the winter nights set in, turn down the lights, fix a glass of Jameson’s and let the spirits wander... if you dare! www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m...

bbc.co.uk

BBC Radio 4 - Drama on 4, The Le Fanu Ballads

Neil Brand's mix of Irish balladry and classic Le Fanu stories of supernatural justice.

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Matthew Bean @mbean.bsky.social · 09/07/2026

In “Like Paralda”—available now in Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet No. 52—an ambitious musician explores the utility of envy and how artistic autonomy means mutation: becoming something the system can no longer commodify. #anticapitalist #speculativefiction #WeirdFiction

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Ursula K. Le Guin Bot @leguinbot.bsky.social · 11/07/2026

The end justifies the means. But what if there never is an end? All we have is means.

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Bill McKay @mckay4senate.bsky.social · 11/07/2026

Thinking about Archbishop Desmond Tutu's statement that he would rather go to hell than a homophobic heaven

"I would refuse to go to a homophobic heaven. No, I would say sorry, I mean I would much rather go to the other place," Archbishop Tutu said at the launch of the Free and Equal campaign in Cape Town.

"I would not worship a God who is homophobic and that is how deeply I feel about this."

Archbishop Tutu said the campaign against homophobia was similar to the campaign waged against racism in South Africa.

"I am as passionate about this campaign as I ever was about apartheid. For me, it is at the same level," he added.

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Elad Nehorai @eladn.bsky.social · 10/07/2026

“Black lawmakers and activists across the Deep South argue they have been abandoned by the Democratic Party to fight an existential crisis on their own. They say they’ve been let down by nearly all corners of the party.” Essential read:

politico.com

Southern Black leaders warn their power is on the line — and Democrats are looking elsewhere

Black lawmakers and activists in the Deep South say they are fighting an existential crisis on their own in the wake of a major Supreme Court ruling.

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Jenny Holzer @jennyholzer.bsky.social · 11/07/2026

SELF-CONTEMPT CAN DO MORE HARM THAN GOOD

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