Dear readers, contributors, and staff,
I’m thinking about Sondheim’s lyric, Look, I made a hat where there never was a hat. I’m thinking about us. Look at what we made. Look at what we make. Stories and poems and art and belief. Breakfast and friends and plans and belief. We are artists, always making, even when it looks different. When making looks unproductive, unorganized, unexciting, unimportant. When it looks like rest. I’m encouraged by the works in this book, the space they give us to both process and play. And I’m grateful for your belief in stories and art. Some themes explored in these pieces may be difficult for some readers. Take care of yourself if you decide to enter in. And know that on the days it’s hard to believe, you can always make it. In many ways, you already are.