Walking at Dusk, foreword by Kelvin Kellman

It goes without saying that at this point, it is safe to say that alas! 2020 is not that year—as it appears it is still retching bucket after bucket of (morbid, economic, and political mostly) bile at all of us.  Perhaps except for the 1%-ers though, the Wall Street oligarchs, and the “true stimulus package recipients”. One might be tempted to say that at this point, the supposed democracy practiced by the super powers is largely a cover for the true plutarchy that it is.  So much so, that it is a shame to say listening to intelligent statements from the mouths of statesmen is almost a thing of the past. And the one time they do come across as intelligent, we extol them out of proportion in praise.

Permit my crassness, but in other news, we are grateful that the women in power are kicking arse! Germany, Taiwan, New Zealand, Iceland, Finland, Norway, Denmark. The manner with which their leaders (all women by the way) have managed this plague is nothing short of genius. But the others… the muscled, testosteronic ego-heads have continued to send their citizens into Elysium.

For fear of this coming across as “another sponsored political piece” I will stop here, as any rational mind should know their right from their left.

This brings us to our purpose if you’re reading this: Art. Our succor, our homeland, our pulse of being.

In this issue, again we have for you stories, poems, and more. Elisabeth Hanscombe alters our philosophy and psychology about ageing, Virginia Konchan and Karen Petersen takes us on a splendid fictional journey in The Happiness Experiment and How to Hurt Another respectively. James Wood shows us how, reminiscent of William Faulkner, the past is not past; as our future often is tied to our past.

In this dismal season straddled between day and night fostered by the virus—and that we must all sadly endure—as we walk in this very dusk of times, we implore you read, revel, and cry as we did with issue 32.