Babel

by R.F. Kuang

He buried his past life, not because it was so terrible but because abandoning it was the only way to survive.

For a country that profited so well from trading in spices, its citizens were violently averse to actually using them;

Photography, he thought, was also a kind of translation, and they had all come out the poorer for it.

‘Violence shows them how much we’re willing to give up,’

‘Justice is exhausting.’