Letter From the Editor

Dear Reader,

Hello. Welcome. Welcome back, if you’ve been here before. If not, and you’ve accidentally stumbled here from some wayward place in the tomb of the internet, I hope you don’t feel lost for too much longer. Stay awhile.

I write this from my balcony at 3am, the Witching Hour. The sky is black and bursting with thick, swollen clouds that have darkened and bloated from hours of building rain. Arcs of lightning dance between them, crackling the sky in jolts of electricity that make the trees shiver. I feel its power in the taste of burnt orange on the tip of my tongue and the sizzle of static on the hair of my arms. The pressure swells, then droops. The air feels alive, humming under pops and snaps of hot light, smelling of sweat and singed rain, clinging to the sidewalk and damp, lonely alleyways. Together we wait, flushed from the thrill and lust that comes with knowing you can be struck at any moment.

Summer is almost over. But the storm is still coming.

This issue of Foolish is jarring, illuminating, breathtaking. The past few months seemed to slip by quietly, but it was time that we spent wandering, circling, wondering, hoping. Some of us traveled to distant places. Others found their way back, wherever “back” may be, because there were more things to be discovered. We hope that you discover some of those things in the pages of this issue alongside the haunting voices of our incredible contributors, who chose to reveal parts of themselves that were bursting with all the power and fury and hurt and beauty of a summer storm. To them, we say thank you; your words, art, and photography stunned us from the beginning. And as always, thank you for sharing your gifts with us.

Rain has started to fall, now. There’s no thunder, but I know it must be out there, somewhere, because the lighting is as strong and magnificent as ever. I hope that Foolish 10.5 ignites you the same way it did us, reader. Enjoy.

Always yours,

Madeleine