Hi Friend,

I’m writing this on a train back to Paris after a weekend at the Farm, but my mind is still tangled up with a fish.

Specifically, a rare black anglerfish.

When I first saw her, I recoiled. (My apologies, sweet little fish.) She was all sharp teeth and eerie translucence, a creature that looked like it had been conjured from nightmare rather than nature. But the more I learned about her, the more she started to feel like a tiny, tragic oracle.

Anglerfish live in the deepest parts of the ocean, in a place where no sunlight reaches. They survive by generating their own light—bioluminescence flickering through the void, a self-sustained beacon in a world of perpetual dark. And yet, for reasons we’ll never fully understand, this one wandered into shallow waters, where she didn’t belong.

And she died.

Where do I even begin? The metaphor writes itself.

The weight of being forced to produce your own illumination? The loneliness of existing in spaces where no one can see you fully? The pull of the light, even when the journey toward it is unsustainable? The monstrous parts of ourselves—the rage, the sadness, the selfishness—that we want to keep submerged, but that occasionally, inevitably, break the surface?

And if we take a step back: who gets to be seen as monstrous? Who gets to be viewed with empathy?

It’s easy to label something terrifying when we don’t understand its context. The anglerfish isn’t a monster; she’s a marvel. An evolutionary masterpiece. But we don’t like how she looks, so we turn away. We reject what unsettles us.

I wasn’t the only one undone by this fish. The internet, in its rarest and most sacred form, united around her. Someone made an adorable animated video.

Listen, it's been a tough few years, ok? Let us have this emotional catharsis through a tiny little fish monster.

​Paris Paloma—who always manages to put music to my deepest feelings—wrote a song about her.​

But my favorite response?

"It’s really upsetting that people keep calling the anglerfish ugly. She was just a girl who wanted to see the sun."

Just a girl who wanted to see the sun.

OH MY GOD. Because don’t we all? Don’t we all crave a world where we are fully seen, fully known, fully loved? And yet, some of us are told—through beauty standards, cultural norms, and systemic exclusions—that we are only welcome in the deep, out of sight. That the world above is not for us.

Considering my next poetry collection is tentatively titled As Long as the Light Will Stay, it feels inevitable that this story found its way to me.

Maybe that’s the lesson: the light is always there.

Even in the abyss.

Even in us.

​

What Comes Next? The Geopolitics of AI and the Crumbling Global Order:

In past dispatches, we’ve explored the macro-level shifts shaping our world—the slow-moving tectonic plates of history that, despite feeling sudden, have been grinding toward this moment for a long time.

Whether through astrology (as a playful narrative lens, not a science!) or historical cycles like Neil Howe’s The Fourth Turning, the signs have been there: we are in the final phase of a long-established world order unraveling. The post-WWII framework—built on U.S. dominance, global cooperation, and a rules-based system—is collapsing. And now, we’re watching its impact unfold in real time.

Exhibit A: President Trump’s latest AI executive order, which makes the U.S. government’s position on AI crystal clear: America’s priority is “global AI dominance.” That framing is fundamentally at odds with cooperative, international approaches to AI regulation, development, and safety. Contrast this with the UN’s Global Digital Compact, which (bless their hearts) is attempting to build an international coalition to raise global AI standards—investing in closing the digital divide, funding an AI equity fund for developing nations, and supporting initiatives to create diverse, representative datasets. Two competing visions of the future, colliding in real time. And unfortunately, I think we already know who’s going to win this round.

Exhibit B: The U.S.’s increasingly hardline diplomatic tone—treating longtime allies (Canada, Denmark, the EU) like adversaries, while cozying up to traditional foes (Russia, North Korea). It’s The Upside Down.

I was offended (but not surprised) by the aggressive tone Vice President J.D. Vance took when addressing European leaders at last week’s AI Action Summit in Paris. Imagine the audacity of coming into our house, criticizing our policies—especially policies designed to put people before corporate profit—and issuing thinly veiled threats about our right to enforce our own laws in our own countries. And, of course, warning us against working with China.

To paraphrase, his message was essentially: America is the only one who gets to lead in AI. Your regulations are dumb and are interfering with U.S. corporate supremacy, which you’d better fix, or else. Oh, and you can come along, I guess, as long as you don’t talk to China.

This attitude was echoed at the Munich Security Conference, where he unilaterally announced that European leaders wouldn’t be involved in Ukraine-Russia negotiations. And let’s not forget the escalating threats against Canada. The diplomatic rulebook that guided global affairs for the past 80 years is being rewritten in real time—by force.

Where Does That Leave Us?

For starters, in a more lawless, chaotic international community.

The postwar institutions that shaped global diplomacy—the UN, the WHO, NATO—were all founded on a belief system that no longer holds. Some of that deconstruction might actually be good in the long run. As much as I dislike Trump, I do agree that NATO countries should be funding more of their own defense instead of relying on the U.S. If Europe wants to build a truly independent, human-centric approach to AI and global governance, it has to be willing to invest real political will, financial resources, and strategic independence.

Because let’s be real—many European countries want to complain about American hypercapitalism while still cashing the checks. But as any trust fund kid will tell you: whoever controls the purse strings controls the power.

So maybe this isn’t all bad. Maybe it forces Europe to make good on its aspirations—to finally step out of the shadows of both the U.S. and China and chart its own course.

Already, we’re seeing some realignment: with China stepping in to fund the WHO after the U.S. pulled out, it raises an interesting question—who else will step up? Which alliances will shift? Which countries will hold the line, and which will pivot?

We’re also watching, in real time, the slow unraveling of the mythology of Pax Americana—the so-called “long peace” that supposedly existed under U.S. hegemony. But the more I study history, the more I wonder if Pax Americana was ever real to begin with—or just another branding exercise, another way to package imperialism as inevitability.

The Psychology of American Exceptionalism

The belief in America’s inherent moral superiority runs deep. Even back in 2011, Foreign Policy published an article (that I revisit often) detailing how this narrative was already at odds with the reality of U.S. military interventions.

And to be clear—I’m not singling out the U.S. for criticism. Every country has its own brutal history. As an immigrant to Canada, I’ve had to deprogram myself from the colonial narratives I was raised with—the sanitized mythology that conveniently omits the stolen land and systemic violence it was built on. France, too, is no less flawed than America or Canada. No one stands on moral high ground here.

But the reason we’re talking about the U.S. is because it remains the gravitational center of global geopolitics. Its policies on AI, diplomacy, and international cooperation will shape the trajectory of this transformation—and whether it leads to collective progress or deeper fragmentation.

So, what comes next?

We’re about to find out.

​

TRUMPCOIN: The Evolution of the Attention Economy

Last month, Donald Trump launched a meme coin that briefly shook the crypto world, at one point reaching a market value of over $12 billion—making Trump, on paper, one of the richest men in the world practically overnight.

I didn’t write about it at the time because, as you know, this space isn’t about chasing headlines. We wait, we observe, and we reflect—because the real story isn’t just what happens, but what it means.

And what this moment represents is the latest mutation of the attention economy: the full-scale fusion of attention, wealth, and political power at a level we haven’t seen before.

Never in American history has a sitting president personally launched and promoted a financial instrument designed to funnel money directly into his private business interests—all while leveraging the branding of the Oval Office. Ethical watchdogs immediately sounded the alarm: at best, it’s profiteering off the presidency; at worst, it’s an enormous conflict of interest, especially as Trump’s deregulation agenda puts billions of his own crypto wealth at stake.

​Kyla Scanlon captured it perfectly: we’re watching a self-reinforcing cycle emerge—one where raw attention is monetized into speculative wealth, which is then used to manufacture influence, which generates more attention, looping endlessly.​

Spectacle, turned financial asset.

The branding was peak circus: an image from the assassination attempt, styled in bold, rallying-cry font. It was Web3 performance art, but with a real-world price tag. Because while Trump and his associates raked in over $100 million in trading fees, the show ended in classic fashion—800,000 investors lost nearly $2 billion as the coin’s value crashed.

And it’s not just Trump. Days ago, Argentine President Javier Milei found himself in a rug pull scandal of his own, promoting a cryptocurrency that lost over $100 million before imploding—triggering impeachment charges.

What This Means for Political Power and Global Influence

The rise of political crypto grifts isn’t just a corruption story—it’s a glimpse into how power, financing, and geopolitics are shifting in the digital age.

Historically, political power has always been intertwined with money. But in the past, that wealth came through traditional networks—corporate donors, lobbying groups, dark money PACs. Crypto changes that. It introduces a new, decentralized, largely unregulated funding mechanism that allows political figures to bypass conventional checks and balances. Instead of relying on industry support or party structures, politicians can now tap directly into their audience for capital—monetizing fandom, tribal loyalty, and raw engagement in a way that mimics influencer culture.

This is where things get dangerous. Because when wealth is built purely on speculation, and speculation is built purely on attention, it creates an incentive structure where political figures are rewarded not for stability, policy, or governance—but for spectacle.

And that has real geopolitical consequences.

Imagine a world where political funding is no longer constrained by traditional alliances or institutions. Where any leader—no matter how fringe—can crowdfund power by tapping into global populist movements, bypassing diplomatic norms and economic regulations in the process. What happens when this kind of speculative wealth isn’t just used for personal enrichment, but for election interference? For shadow political campaigns? For financing conflicts in ways that are invisible to financial watchdogs?

In many ways, we’re already there. Trumpcoin wasn’t just a stunt—it was a test balloon. A proof of concept for how digital speculation can be leveraged as a direct pipeline to political financing and influence. And as we’ve seen in Argentina, the ripple effects are already spreading.

The question isn’t if this model will be replicated. The question is: who will perfect it? And how far will they take it?

​

Closing Thoughts:

Once again, my deep dive into AI has taken up most of this space (listen, it’s not my fault geopolitics keeps making things weirder), but I want to leave you with something different: my latest hyperfixation—Isekai anime.

If you’re unfamiliar, Isekai is a subgenre of anime where characters are transported from their normal reality into an alternate universe—often a world that operates like a video game, complete with experience points, leveling systems, and skill upgrades. The appeal is immediate. In a world where progress often feels nonlinear, opaque, or outright impossible, Isekai offers a fantasy of structure. A system. A set of rules where effort always translates into improvement, where every challenge has a reward, where power can be earned.

I’ve been watching a lot of these series, and I have thoughts. But if you want to get a head start before I write about it properly, check out Solo Leveling—one of the biggest Isekai stories right now. It follows a man who starts off as the weakest in the world, only to gain access to a hidden system that allows him—and only him—to level up. What unfolds is a deeply satisfying, almost hypnotic power fantasy: grinding, unlocking abilities, overcoming impossible odds, ascending.

But beyond the obvious escapism, Isekai taps into something real. We are living in a moment of extreme uncertainty—politically, economically, technologically. The appeal of a world with clear rules and a straightforward path to success isn’t just about fantasy; it’s about control. About craving a system that rewards effort, that makes sense.

I’ll write more about this soon, but in the meantime, if you check out Solo Leveling, let me know what you think. Because I have a feeling we’re going to have a lot to talk about.

As always, thank you for reading, for engaging, for thinking through all of this with me. Until next time. ❤️