Note from the Editors
We tread on autumn's colours, now, see the last of summer's green dwindled into a cold wet mess of yellow and brown. The sky's white as paper, the trees are black as ink, and everywhere in Glasgow is a slithering damp of mist and rain. This is a season of withdrawal, of seeing the world through slow frames: windows, screens, photographs of brighter days, letters from faraway friends. It is a season that contains the ghost of the last.
This is an issue haunted by the absence of its ghosts, images that fade in and out of view, letters on the cusp of receipt. There is light of the kind that darkens a room, dark of a kind to which the eyes adjust too late, movement that takes one nowhere but within and beneath. It is an issue of loss, chimera, chiaroscuro.
To sit with loved ones near at hand is crucial to the reading of this issue. If you are not so supplied, we recommend a cup of something hot to drink and a pen; scrawl on napkins, paper bags, the spines of journals and the backs of envelopes, but write. Stretch your voice out through your fingers and clasp it to someone's gaze before it's too late.
Thanks are due to Orion Zangara for this issue's art; to Raven Edgewalker for the photograph on its cover; to our brilliant contributors; and to you, dearest readers, without whom we would be very lonely indeed.
Have a beautiful fall.
