Meno-specula-pause: How the Speculative Makes the Impossible Possible

By Laraine Herring

It is inconceivable that I am aging. That my eggs are gone, along with my knees, my ability to sleep through the night, my tolerance for spicy foods, temperatures over sixty-five degrees, and meetings that could have been emails. I walk into rooms and forget why I’m there. Words jumble in my throat. My skin itches, bumps, and flushes.

Those details, though specific and accurate, are neither interesting nor new. They don’t tell you anything you haven’t heard before abo...