I wrote this at an Arvon at Home Masterclass given by Raymond Antrobus. The exercise was based on the same prompt followed by Inua Ellams for his collection The Actual. You can guess what the prompt was.

Fuck Productivity

The reason for this and any other broken season. The expectation of continuation in the midst of extinction. Sociopathic responses to fauna and Gaia’s imploring to stop, break, rewind. Their cries now used as convenient methods of capital genocide. The weapons of mass destruction were there all along, in productivity’s warehouse. Underpaid staff wearing nappies and shifting boxes as productivity waits for the gaslight to catch fire. Loss of senses, lack of breath, fever and limbs of uranium. Under pressure, on a deadline, the spirit of Anglo Sajonia.

Fuck Productivity. Don’t let it destroy you.

Slow love, Cynthia Rodríguez Juárez