Our era is drenched in narrative. From the beguiling flame spiral of neoliberalism’s end of ‘grand narratives’, to Trump’s three and four word (lock her up / maga) ultra-short stories of destruction, to our helpless fascination with the far right’s ability to govern by unverified sound-bite, to the fact that every shitty little marketer on the Internet now calls themselves a ‘storyteller’; story has eaten the world.

I'm torn. I really am. 

Dreams are stories. Stories are enchantments. Historians tell stories. Max Weber told stories. Statisticians tell stories. The history of dreams of an eternal present is comedy and tragedy. 

The powerful tell stories to a large audience. The powerless tell stories to each other.