How deep does it go?

A history? It’s a mystery, a thing that is made to entice but doesn’t sufficiently sum up anything. It satisfies, or it doesn’t. It is an open page or the back of a book. It’s the two hundred fifty words your publisher asked for. It’s a fake, a fraud, albeit a benign one. Or it’s an earnest joke, a self-conscious wink, a laugh in the face of human vanity. Or an aggrandizement of it. A shocking jolt of unconsciousness presented in hypnotic fashion, like a handshake or a smile on the subway. It’s a way out, instead of in.

Go in.

Go deeper, ever deeper ...

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A nexus of newsletters, of interconnected stories and tales about future and parallel places and peoples, opinions in the subterranean wind, a flowing system of literary caves and underground crevasses, a lit-burned idea of life ...


T Van Santana

Writer. Rambler. Secretist. Nonbinary transfemme. They/them.