The map falls open, its surface studded with towns. We trace lines from city to city, follow the routes carved out by years of travel.
But we’re not interested in the famous places. We’ve been there thousands of times: crowded sights filled with tourists, cameras flashing in blinding succession. Instead, we travel wherever our feet take us, to little squares of emptiness on the map: the cracks and crevices in the world.
We wander, wander further to a place where our thoughts are unchained. We wander to a place without a name.
Our heartbeats quicken. Nobody stands beside us when we step out into the rain, heads uncovered and hands empty. Has the world ever felt more free? Here we see in technicolor. Here, brine and marrow meet. We encounter lost dreams and December snow, dragons and cosmic kings. Our starry eyes take us to a field of sunflowers and sweet grass. We’ll reach for the cotton candy clouds above and listen to the grasshopper’s song to a river’s tune. Our bodies blur.
This is where I leave you to continue the journey alone. Travel further–to imaginary kingdoms and forgotten planets. You’ll encounter ghosts and corpses. In each nameless location, you scribble down lines and notations, grasping the breathless sensation of each new place, and hoping that one day, you can name your own worlds into creation.
—The Editors, Winter 2018
Table of Contents
Poetry
Helina Li: a fish
Flora Huang: Lost Dreams
Ria Chaudary: nighttime
Caitlin Leong: pluto
Joyce Ker: Starry Eyes
Prose
Sahana Chelian: (in)Human
Kaylia Mai: A Spirit Adrift
Justin Chu: An Open Book
Michelle Zhu: December Snow
Yiu-On Li: Magical Monday MacGuffin
Christine Lee: Memento
Grace Huang: Siren
Cynthia Li: Sweet Clopydra Blues
Sophie Guan: Tags
Katie Chen: The Color Black
Suphala Nibhanupudi: The Cosmic King
Alisa Lu: to the imaginary
Renee Ge: Underwater