Night falls and we gather close to the electrine fire, and warm our hands upon the blast. This month our playlist blends the sounds of dark woodland and crushed snow with the distant throb of wakeful machines.

“A child of nine or ten sits at the edge of the crowd, alone, playing on a wooden flute. People pause to listen, and they smile, but they do not speak to him, for he never ceases playing and never sees them, his dark eyes wholly rapt in the sweet, thin magic of the tune.”

— The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas, Ursula K. Le Guin