Letter From the Editors
Dear Reader,
The skies are grey here in New York City and in the movement of the winds is the chill of the season which has us digging, unearthing, hoodies, capes, and vibey – vintage legacy sweaters just a few moth holes away from the inevitable. The skies darken earlier than our thoughts so they turn inward, can’t help it, thinking of those things in the dark, the dark things. Yes, it is time to greet the ancestors, make the offerings, dare to touch the veil with a small hope that messages of love like smoke will drift through and over.
These are our offerings to you dear reader. Peek under leaves to see what crawls.
In this issue, we see a dichotomy between the human and the inhuman, a rabid search for the things that reflect us back to ourselves the most. Through time, we’ve used celebrations, gatherings, a sharing of abundance within our communities to ward off spirits and prepare our homes for the endless winters that dot our timelines. Sometimes that means scheduling ourselves beyond our capabilities and sometimes it means we avoid our responsibilities until our deadlines come knocking on our doors begging for attention. In this issue, our stories eat their pomegranate seeds, even revel in the sweet arils, and descend into an otherworld that feels so strange, so unusual, providing an uncanny travelog to the depths of our history, both personal and societal. Let this issue guide you, a personal Virgil, through the grief, the horror, and the mundane that makes us feel so much more human than we ever have.
We are eternally grateful for the work of those artists that have submitted to us; for their patience as we sqweek and trudge on our tricycles down the haunted corridors of the lonely Submittable Hotel to find them. And to all of you who are reading us now: thank you!
Enjoy.
LIT Editors
