Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow
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Read between September 14 - October 22, 2025
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There’s a world of people and things, if you can manage to stop being a misanthrope for a second.”
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“Why make anything if you don’t believe it could be great?”
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For Sam, greatness meant popular. For Sadie, art
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A world where everyone is blind and deaf to any culture or experience that is not their own. I hate that world, don’t you?
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And as any mixed-race person will tell you—to be half of two things is to be whole of nothing.
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I’m going to play until the end of this life.” “That’s a good philosophy,” Anna said.
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“Will she be okay?” Sam said. “I think so,” Anna said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. She would be okay. Dead was okay.
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wrapping her fingers around the cylindrical chamber of blood sponges that was his (and every) penis.
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“If he’d been a girl,” Midori said, “everyone would have called him a slut, but he was just a stud.”
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Her eyes were softer and her expression was less arch and self-conscious; her hand, entitled, as if she owned Marx’s cheek; her posture, slightly canted toward him, relaxed and pliable; her cheeks flushed.
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She was pretty all the time, but she was beautiful in love.
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But to return to what I was saying, the middle-aged—” “Those cursed souls worn down by the inevitable compromises of life, you mean?”
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To build a world for someone seems a romantic thing from where I stand.”
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She had once read in a book about consciousness that over the years, the human brain makes an AI version of your loved ones. The brain collects data, and within your brain, you host a virtual version of that person. Upon the person’s death, your brain still believes the virtual person exists, because, in a sense, the person still does. After a while, though, the memory fades, and each year, you are left with an increasingly diminished version of the AI you had made when the person was alive.
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She was trying hard not to romanticize her daughter’s personality. She didn’t want to ascribe characteristics to her that were not truly hers.
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So many of the mothers she knew said that their children were exactly themselves from the moment they appeared in the world. But Sadie disagreed. What person was a person without language? Tastes? Preferences? Experiences? And on the other side of childhood, what grown-up wanted to believe that they had emerged from their parents fully formed? Sadie knew that she herself had not become a person until recently. It was unreasonable to expect a child to emerge whole cloth. Naomi was a pencil sketch of a person who, at some point, would be a fully 3D character.
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“You have different things,” Dong Hyun said. “You were born into a different world than I was. Maybe you don’t need what Grandma and I have.”
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Sadie had invented a game where if Naomi called bedtime before Sadie did for seven nights in a row, Naomi received a prize. Yes, it was manipulative and basically bribery, but it was also effective at getting her five-year-old to bed.
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The book about consciousness that Sadie mentions when she is talking about the brain having an AI version of deceased loved ones is I Am a Strange Loop, by Doug Hofstadter, a source suggested to me by Hans Canosa.