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malyndae.bsky.social
@malyndae.bsky.social
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malyndae.bsky.social
Basically this, I guess? (Apparently while listening to Leon Bridges?)
An illustration depicting the Old Testament story of Abraham sacrificing his son Isaac.
July 14, 2025 at 4:56 PM
malyndae.bsky.social
This book really is beautiful. And I’m generally not much of a sci-fi reader, so don’t let the time travel part dissuade you.
Page 130 of the book This Is How You Lose the Time War: thousand. Flowers grow far away on a planet they'll call Cephalus, and these flowers bloom once a century, when the living star and its black-hole binary enter conjunction. I want to fix you a bouquet of them, gathered across eight hundred thousand years, so you can draw our whole engagement in a single breath, all the ages we've shaped together. I veer rhapsodic; my prose purples. And yet I don't think you'll laugh, or if you do, the laughter would delight me. Maybe I've over-read the simple word with which you close your letter. (But I can never over-read you, and the word you chose is not simple.) Maybe I overstep your bounds. And, to be honest, love confuses me. I've never felt it before this-I've had joy in sex; I've had fast friendships. Neither feels right for this, and this feels bigger than both. So let me say what I mean, as well as I can. I sought loneliness when I was young. You've seen me there: on my promontory, patient and unaware. But when I think of you, I want to be alone together. I want to strive against and for. I want to live in contact. I want to be a context for you, and you for me. Page 150 from the book This Is How You Lose the Time War: I hate it. I never hated before, like I hate this. With all you are to me, and all you'll always be, we can't just go. We can't just walk away. But I will, if it leaves you living. They will watch you, and me, closer than ever now. We can fight. We can chase each other down through time, like we did for centuries past before I knew your name. But no more letters. No more of this. That I should die-fine. I signed on to this war to die. I don't know if I ever told you that before. But that you should die. That you should suffer. That they should unmake you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I'll write it in waves. In skies. In my heart. You'll never see, but you will know. I'll be all the poets, I'll kill them all and take each one's place in turn, and every time love's written in all the strands it will be to you. But never again like this. I am so sorry. If I had been stronger. Faster. Smarter. Better. If I had been worth you. If— You would not want me to curse myself this way. You'll have to burn this. I hope you can keep…
July 11, 2025 at 10:54 PM