Layers of Zoe

Latest — 12 Apr 2026

#37. Transit Passage.

In another life, the villains seemed legible. On 4 July 2019, a frigate detained an Iranian tanker off Gibraltar at the United States' request. The Iranians cited piracy. The British cited Syria. Both filed the correct paperwork. A fortnight later, Iran boarded a British vessel in the strait. Same

More issues

Jordan Peterson, Explained.

The problem is older than politics. The lobster confirms this. This is serotonin. Order exists. Chaos also exists. Both predate the conversation you wanted to have. Chaos is feminine. This is Jungian. Jung said it was ancient. The ancients could not be reached for comment. He recommends cleaning your room.

#36. Ratio Sufficiens.

The floor is eighteen. The trapdoor, older – there since 1940, survived the carnations, asks only for sufficient reason. A colleague of the man who hung it has requested three of him, in bronze, at street level. He observes it, on Sundays. Speaks, with much feeling, about the Roma and their

Errata

I wanted to be clean. By clean I mean: no residue, no transfer, no trace on the glass. A kind of ethical hygiene. Love entered as it does – without credentials – and put its thumbprint on everything I called mine. I called it fate to avoid calling it appetite. I offered

#35. Access Not Granted.

The television drips. Saturday leaks down the wall. My mouth speaks facts about forged papers. The papers grow legs and wander into WhatsApp. Someone lifts a phone like a seashell. Inside it: my name, warped, echoing. A man assembles relevance from spare parts: a cousin, a discipline, a place I

#11:13.

at 11:13 she checks herself as one checks the sea has tea and toast with the dogs he wears the face with the accusation says it is nothing she says right again thinking how expensive it has become to erase the lines on her forehead the day splits like

#6:47.

The message pings at 6:47. It wakes the floorboards. Then the dogs. Then the thought that the world has changed. The curtains observe. The kettle prepares. An old lawyer in Monaco wants her thoughts on a case he calls complicated. He does not ask for her time. He moves

#32. Gate, Attempting Something Else.

The gate has been trying to confess for weeks. First it claimed the motor was tired. Then the card reader had lost conviction. Then the central unit no longer recognised the hour. Each update arrived as a minor truth, delivered with the calm of one who believes the next sentence

#٣٠. Curated Mischief.

Applied for a job in Riyadh On my lunch break, a whim of curated mischief. Checked “Approach to Ethics” and “Other.” They’ll never know how much subversion can fit into a checkbox — when you’ve spent a lifetime being one.

Consultor Emeritus Infernus: Ricardus

I. Clearance The floor slicks open. He steps down – like a man arriving at his second home. Coat unwrinkled. Soul unclaimed. No trumpets. Just the low hum of paperwork completing itself. A demon glances up, checks the clipboard. [cursor blinks – he’s been here before] “Oh. You.” Someone lights a

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