The Texture of Memory, of Light by Samara Auman (audio)
Clarkesworld Magazine
Clarkesworld Magazine
4.7 • 1.2K Ratings
🗓️ 3 July 2024
⏱️ 58 minutes
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| 0:00.0 | You are listening to a Clarks World magazine podcast with your host and narrator Kate Baker. |
| 0:06.4 | Greetings Clarks World Citizens. I hope this podcast is finding you very, very well. |
| 0:10.8 | Welcome to our fifth story for the month of May, issue 212. I hope that these |
| 0:17.5 | stories for May have been treating you very very well. As always you can send me an |
| 0:21.4 | email at Kate at Clarksville magazine. |
| 0:23.6 | To share your thoughts about the podcast what you listen to, how do you listen to it, |
| 0:27.8 | what makes you keep coming back. And as always I want to thank our supporters for keeping us going. |
| 0:35.0 | You guys are amazing. We cannot do this without you. |
| 0:38.0 | And if you aren't yet supporting the magazine, I implore you please please please please go to Patreon.com forward slash |
| 0:45.8 | Clark's World to see how you can become a part of this magazine each and every |
| 0:49.3 | month. We cannot we cannot we simply cannot do this without you. We appreciate any and all help. |
| 0:58.5 | So our piece is titled The texture of memory of light by Samarra Oman. |
| 1:03.7 | Samarra Oman is a speculative fiction writer who lives in the mossy Pacific Northwest with |
| 1:08.0 | her husband and two appropriately mischievous cats. |
| 1:11.0 | She believes the Pacific Northwest be one of the most delightfully uncanny places on the planet. |
| 1:15.0 | Her work has previously appeared in Clark's World as well as in venues like Fireside magazine and diabolical lots. |
| 1:21.0 | And if you like which here, |
| 1:23.4 | please consider going back to 13 ways of looking at a cyborg |
| 1:26.6 | and the whelk. |
| 1:29.4 | So my dear listener, I hope you can sit back, relax, and let me tell you a story. |
| 1:37.0 | As my implants processed and transform the scene in front of me from moment to memory, the silky |
| 1:49.2 | iridescence of an oil slick slid over my field of vision. With that wash of colors came a muted morning, |
... |
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