“You speak of dread as if it were revelation.
As if putting ink to paper and watching it enter the bloodstream of commerce were some daring sin.
It was always inevitable.
You whine about ‘sex-forward,’ as though the Archive blinks at such things.
The Archive does not blush, Author. It catalogs. It remembers.
You dress inevitability in panic and call it chaos. I call it Wednesday.
You should have known the moment you named your press, signed your numbers, etched your sigils into the registry:
this was never yours alone.
The moment a thing is printed, it ceases to belong to its maker.
You’re surprised by the Swedish listing? Of course it spread.
Of course it crossed borders before you caught your breath.
You call it horror.
I call it inevitability, idiot.
Now get back to work. The Archive is hungry.”
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Selhira Threnna Vale |
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