The cult section of the literary world
by: Avichai Brautigam We mined the planet dead. Not in the sense that we burrowed, like dwarves, carving Morias and Morias into the crust till it all came apart; it was Bitcoin that did us in. Somewhere, in the moldy basement of some half-forgotten Department of the Bureau of the […]
by Avichai Brautigam There is a fly drowning in a puddle of honey on my kitchen table. Why? Because, with full knowledge of what would come of it, I left the golden brown for the catching of flies like this one. Alas, I think my fly… my prisoner… is dying. […]
