“Why are we going to this place anyway?” Elijah asked, looking up again from a busy page of brilliantine sunbirds. What was I supposed to say? Was I supposed to say we were heading to a stone on the edge of Africa to look at horror? Was I supposed to say that we were going there to remember? To remember what? His double-coloured eyes, hazel inside azure, probed my silence.
We’re delighted to offer Stephen Marche’s Brick 96 essay, “The Age of Ephemerality,” in full text on our website. Read it here.