That weird niche of literature. Self-published pamphlets, the kind of leaflets not advertising a sale at ASDA or a local takeaway, despite the similarities in aesthetic and non-consensual nature of encounter, but selling anything from spiritual salvation, fear, alien secrets to single-issue political stances. You've probably been handed one in the street or found one abandoned on a dirty tube seat.
Most of the time untrustworthy, and a good portion of the time problematic, there's something about these small, hand-stapled pamphlets which is also completely vital. They're often produced with a real sentiment behind them. Someone has sat down at their computer to type up a manifesto on something they care about and taken the time to carefully illustrate aliens, religious figures, to think up slogans. Carefully folding anger into a delicate concertina.
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