The Memory Librarian and Other Stories of Dirty Computer

by Janelle Monáe

No one has ever affected her like this before, not even her first lover twenty years ago, when they were both novice Librarians, clean and freshly purged of their pasts, ready to make their newest memories with one another.

we love it here. we embrace fresh feelings.

“I know I’ve never met you before, and it’s like you’ve already moved in, you’re already making room.”

mhm, exactly.

She has never felt desire this raw in her life. But it’s not their passion that scares her; it’s the after hush, the easy sleep of Alethia in her arms, the soft kiss she places, like a brand, on the inner fold of Seshet’s left wrist.

ugh, the description 😩. b/c exactly. the peace is terrifying

“You don’t need to control everything.”

shh

Dreams aren’t memories. They are memories’ voices.”

💜

You know you are, literally, my dream girl,

💜

All the groups had something else in common, aside from uniting as queer and woman-aligned:

they’d sought out an escape from a world that dealt in painful binaries, in good or bad, dirty or clean. Everyone at the Pynk Hotel was here to experiment with art, with freedom, with life, and whatever that meant for them.

how every inch of life’s purpose was to find love, freedom, and your people. To embrace your own weirdness and other folks’ wildness.

🖤