I was twenty-one at the time, about to turn twenty-two. No prospect of graduating soon, and yet no reason to quit school. Caught in the most curiously depressing circumstances. For months I’d been stuck, unable to take one step in any new direction. The world kept moving on; I alone was at a standstill. In the autumn, everything took a desolate cast, the colors swiftly fading before my eyes. The sunlight, the smell of the grass, the faintest patter of rain, everything got on my nerves.
How many times did I dream of catching a train at night?
—  Haruki Murakami, A Wild Sheep Chase

How people can understand why a pudgy white guy with a minimum wage job might want to escape to a world where he doesn’t have to deal with the mundane, but they can’t understand why a black person might want to escape to a world where they’re a human being.  We can understand why you don’t want to be a cashier in the land of Thedas, but you can’t understand why we don’t want to be a servant, backwards freak, or a slave in the same universe?  

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