This Issue

From the Editors

In the late 2000s, I’d kick off each winter morning by whipping back my curtains, hoping to conjure snow on rooftops. Every third week or so, there it was: proof of my psychic capacities. I fear now that my powers are waning. In negative degrees, I stir soup (heavy on the dill) with my roommates and pretend there’s something besides wind to trek through out there. I write in circles around February, but at the center of it all is Conmag, its surplus and yet insufficient seating marvelously identical to how I first found it three years ago. Seasonal rhythms may fail, but here we are, again. -ES

Today I’d rather dream of mild afternoons 12,000 years ago. A two-ton armadillo lumbering around. The four fossilized skulls of Doedicurus that researchers in South America have found were caved in; they think humans stunned the Volkswagen Beetle-sized creatures with hard blows to the head before they rushed in and tipped them over. They may have sheltered in the cavernous carapaces when the weather turned ugly. When Providence gets too cold, I follow a long path made by a tree-trunk-sized tail through an ancient meadow and find the living dome munching its due. -ZB

Early this morning, still half-asleep, coming off a night of unsettling dreams (spilled printer ink, syntactical errors, a mysterious chill spreading through Conmag...), I saw a shadow near my dresser, somewhere between piles of winter clothing and my stack of new books. It faced me in what I imagined was a sort of benevolent greeting. Hours later, I found a photo in my camera roll I have no memory of taking: Today, 07:39. View from my bed. Empty room: dresser, sweaters, books. I’ve never been haunted before. I think he’s my special Indy ghost. I think he’s friendly. Wish me luck! Happy Valentine’s Day <3 -LKS