Pisces Witch by Ivo Dominguez Jr and Mat Auryn

"Pisces's symbol is two fish swimming in opposite directions, connected by a wispy cord between their mouths. One fish is the earthly realm, and the other is the spiritual. It makes perfect sense that Pisces rules the feet in medical astrology, because Pisceans are moving their metaphorical feet between those worlds constantly.

Pisceans get picked on for being absent-minded. Not present. Daydreamers. But what others don't realize is one of Pisces's greatest strengths--the ability to blurt out a startlingly relevant insight, apparently from nowhere--is born from the intuitive knowledge gained during their mental walkabouts. Pisceans do tend to favor the spiritual heavens fish over the earthly one, and learning to come back down to the ground and be present when they'd rather be swimming through the stars can make a Pisces even more powerful."

(Llewellyn, 2024)

A Psalm for the Wild Built by Becky Chambers

"It is difficult for anyone born and raised in human infrastructure to truly internalize the fact that your view of the world is backward. Even if you fully know that you live in a natural world that existed before you and will continue long after, even if you know that the wilderness is the default state of things, and that nature is not something that only happens in carefully curated enclaves between towns, something that pops up in empty spaces if you ignore them for a while, even if you spend your whole life believing yourself to be deeply in touch with the ebb and flow, the cycle, the ecosystem as it actually is, you will still have trouble picturing an untouched world. You will still struggle to understand that human constructs are carved out and overlaid, that these are the places that are the in-between, not the other way around.

This is the cognitive shift that Dex ran headlong into as they straddled their bike on the old road and stared at the place where the asphalt disappeared."

(Tor, 2021)

Eileen by Ottessa Moshfegh

"My father had an armchair that he’d dragged from the den into the kitchen. He slept there. It was the kind of chair that shuttled backward at the pull of a lever, a charming novelty when he’d bought it. But the lever no longer worked. The thing had rusted into permanent repose. Everything in the house was like that chair—grimy, ruined, and frozen.

I remember it pleased me that the sun set so early that winter. Under the cover of darkness, I was somewhat comforted. My father, however, was scared of the dark. That may sound like an endearing peculiarity, but it was not. At night he would light the stove and the oven and drink and watch the blue flames whir under the weak overhead light. He was always cold, he said. And yet he barely dressed."

Eileen is dark literary fiction that takes place in a prison for kids and describes the dysfunction and alcoholism of those that work there. The writing describes dark and slimy atmospheres, that's what I was aiming to capture here.

(Penguin, 2016)

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