The one-armed man walks into a flower shop and says:

It is, as noted by Benjanun with characteristic acerbity, a “silly vacuous article,” but even the silly and the vacuous can lead you down productive paths, I mean, I ended up here, a translation of this, which is, yes, also silly? Closer to the metal, when it comes to discussing various and sundry aspects of this rather niche subculture, these male-identified individuals with an abdiding fondness for media focusing on intimate relationships between female characters, but there’s still a distancing breeziness, and also the distressingly extended metaphor of the carrier strike group. But! It’s the notion of a “yuri of absence” that is (yes) haunting me: “That is, an emotional scenery is already yuri… A cliff is towering over the sea, grass is growing on top of it, there is a fence, the gray ocean and sky are stretching beyond the horizon, there is an empty bench for two…” —And while there are (amusing) shades here of Nike’s (fictional, but) totalizing ad campaign of nothingness, I’m sure you can also see the problems that could well arise with this sort of disrepresentation? —And yet! Here’s yr. humble correspondent, a male-identifying individual with a fondness etc., who is in fact writing an epic that depends upon an intimate relationship between two women, and would you look for a moment at the æsthetic that underpins the cover images of the individual installments? So. Like I said. Haunted. —I need to dig up our notes on the rasa of yearning.