Walkdog by Sofia Samatar


I’m not really sure what to say to give context. The story title/link is to a very short story about a mythical, modern creature, written as if by a young teenager as a research paper/homework assignment. I enjoyed it. I thought you might. I often think, when I read amazing things, that the well-written thing has changed me somehow and I get uncomfortable, that I might be the only person who has been changed, that by reading something I am now apart from the rest of the world that has not read it. I’m recommending a piece of short fiction to you and I’m trying to be less alone. Does that make sense?

Maybe I just should have linked to the story. This turned out weird. I’m going to click the Share Link button anyway, though, because this moment when I’m typing is pinned in between two infinities that stretch out and I’m not in most of that space… for most of that time. I’m just here, typing. Sometimes reading. I’d like you to be, as well, if you’re game for it.