/lit/ - Literature

is thomas pynchon one guy?

>>11100723
Watch it, fella.

who, /lit/?

i need answers

"The day we were sold. A Monday from what my old Memory tells.
A searing through the September sky, as mouths stretched in mournful distortions and eyes sunk as they looked aloft to a Sun they could swear grew darker. Sordid rays were felt just before, under their skin, no more room for tearing tech, a New Age game at play. Dust flung up and reconfigured. Something left as those glass pillars fell, flying away to other regions where baleful, all-ensnaring falsehoods are left in the salt brine to not be sipped, and finial gland-like beings spiral and intertwine with greenery so lush like a caul... away from the brute afflictions tormenting those aligned still with the flesh, who now scream amidst the stalled taxis and eddying papers, the pungent scent of fuel stabbing through the chaos, and the tears in brooks down their faces obeying abhorrent forces to bend downward in agony over the souls caught in the first onslaught. Fear clenched the sinew near their hearts. The moment hung for a while; before the sheer confusion of trying to make sense of something no one would prepare for; ones not knowing whether to abandon their vehicles, step out and embrace another in solidarity, or to roar down avenues to the nearest exit of the city, seeing the nightmare dwindling behind. Another heat, another blunted hit at the aether... certain now intended for the world to gnash their teeth at, to stand silent, nearby screens, straining their ears for state-sanctioned words to nullify their fears of this contaminating the years ahead. Sirens pound the concrete. Wide eyes march on the streets whitewashed with dust. Faces sink as they notice tissues strewn across the pavement, red-staining and lucent in the early sun."