The Children of Men, P.D. James (Faber and Faber, 1992). “So how does it feel to be a human being now?” That wasn’t the question I expected to get from my aunt, the first time I saw her after my oldest kid was born. For starters she was a feminist, a prominent academic
Incredibly on point. I distinctly remember the birth of my first son. Something...happened. Something clicked, and I knew, instantly, in a non-conceptual but incontrovertible way that "Oh. Huh. This is it. This is what it's all about." It was kind of like the last tumbler in a lock falling into place and simultaneously experiencing the miracle of being unlocked while also feeling the weight of gravity that ultimately caused the tumbler to fall. I was complete but also completed. To lack this experience is to experience lack in its most visceral form, in the deepest pit of your stomach, and the drive to fill it is the essence of desperation. People driven by desperation are dangerous.
Incredibly on point. I distinctly remember the birth of my first son. Something...happened. Something clicked, and I knew, instantly, in a non-conceptual but incontrovertible way that "Oh. Huh. This is it. This is what it's all about." It was kind of like the last tumbler in a lock falling into place and simultaneously experiencing the miracle of being unlocked while also feeling the weight of gravity that ultimately caused the tumbler to fall. I was complete but also completed. To lack this experience is to experience lack in its most visceral form, in the deepest pit of your stomach, and the drive to fill it is the essence of desperation. People driven by desperation are dangerous.
the beginning section was really lovely, thank you