Altered Carbon shares a grim, dinginess similar to Blade Runner. The 1% now live hundreds of years in a rotating cast of tech-infused bodies.
The smell of vinegar and hot water, a reminder of my mom and weekends cleaning before play.
I stand on black water, like a navigator at night, maps aglow in lantern light, as the stars wink out one by one. Not sure how well this poem…
There is no room for epic fantasy in this grimdark universe.
Conventional fantasy goes back to the mud. It's tromped on. Ground down in the dirt. There are people to kill and scores to settle. Conventional fantasy tropes are among the dead.