I think it's slavery, more generally, that must be attacked

This story was linked to via kottke.

Many feel that sex slavery is particularly revolting—and it is. I saw it firsthand. In a Bucharest brothel, for instance, I was offered a mentally handicapped, suicidal girl in exchange for a used car. But for every one woman or child enslaved in commercial sex, there are at least 15 men, women, and children enslaved in other fields, such as domestic work or agricultural labor. Recent studies have shown that locking up pimps and traffickers has had a negligible effect on the aggregate rates of bondage. And though eradicating prostitution may be a just cause, Western policies based on the idea that all prostitutes are slaves and all slaves are prostitutes belittles the suffering of all victims. It’s an approach that threatens to put most governments on the wrong side of history.

Another Claimant

LeisureArts steps down:

Art has never been a vocation for me and probably never will be. In a funny way, I take it much too seriously. To paraphrase Luc Ferry in writing about the Greek view of philosophy - I see it as a mode of life rather than mere discourse. I'll be around, but Dilettante Ventures, and thus, LeisureArts are no more. I've got too much living to do.

Or is that steps up?

Thinking Sinking

Some note-taking raises a mark on the subject. there are annotations creeping under the skin [sucking / lapping], they are crowded at gullet. You cause bold ejaculation! - call it a dropsied sense of what can be said or done, twice baked [deletia] where we dripped and homed. The beacon of your unspoken terms and an unlined notepad.

A discourse; a means of speechifying, spreading the blood of the thing. Call it a work, yes, one might feel honour-bound or blighted to do it some justice as it towers. No - a means to horror back through. Strip it. Desnude, debag. A way to case the simpler terms and to start.

It's closeness makes bold. Years now have given a break to the bidden ghosts, swaggering homonculi. Ennobled by dread. Peopling a cough. Alliteration made characters of them all.

Stumbling in the darkness - this waits, says it. What's all the rage? Call the interior humbling, a thing that has a term. Have it called out, have it declared or laid bare - the intention disposed of one Sunday wine-red morning as the edge rolled back. Met like a bone breaks. I've the sand, the stones - you've flint and the way it tesselates, the pave defined. I will emerge light all the hours we find and make.

hostaged by the moved - in light-dazed rooms atop a dead street allow the mind to steam and bend a curve in the wood, the joiner's art accomplished as the elements are bound ethic. Aligned and plastered. Not composition - for / at once. Flat entwinement. Marinade the frame where yours ends and siphon the better longings.

While I revisit the things you don't know you've left in me - the sacking of you and the elements. Wonder how your skin smells at all other moments of the day. Seduction; and the death of anecdote. Fall thrice over for the same inset stipple of your while. As you state and rail, I will paint blonde skies with the replicas, and will harrow (narrow?) the unset. An agreement starting in words forgotten then remade from the set bind - a term to adjoin or entreaty. The unpolished made perfect, bound and won, as the day wanes.

A seven week old boy with malnutrition and intestinal blockage ( Lynsey Addario)

I can't include the picture; the picture is under copyright and only available to subscribers to Harpers.

A seven week old child with the face of a pleading old man, a flaccid grimy body stuffed and bloated. The head's set into releif against the hand supporting the body. A leg appears no more than a bent tube. Ribs hoop-stacked on the spongy melon gut.

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As a field of study is developed, it necessarily becomes its own yardstick or how can an element not of the hegemony be approved / upheld / sustained by it? Does it become part of that tradition and invalidate itself?

Anthropology. Predominantly Western analytic philosophy. What, indeed, is analysis - is it defined by its goal, ends, by being teleological in nature?

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Is there any way for those who 'rediscover' to discuss or debate without that being the only referent, register - the only retrenchment?