I feel like I’m hanging on to the last little bits of creativity and energy I possess. Am I burnt out? Yes. Am I stressed? Usually. Am I wanting to spend all afternoon, every afternoon, reading British literature and eating green apples? Why, yes, I am. Maybe that’s why this edition of the online essay The Voracity appeals to me so much. It’s pure fantasy, but I need pure fantasy more than I think I do. Page through it. It’s gorgeous, it’s emotional, it’s resplendent in its fantasy-ness.
And I have to give full props to any stylist who can make raw meat look so appealing.
