Editors' note
This issue, we can hear the world. We hear the thunder of a sky fit to
burst, a D flat reverberating across the universe. We hear the ocean echo
across two shells, wheat rolling like surf. We hear the thump thump
thump of hip-hop and r&b bouncing from tarmac – then scarred by
gunshots and drawn breaths.
You amplified the world; chords from an orchestra had us running from
the theatre. You made our mouths a cannon, collected reggae tapes. You
pressed unwanted kisses into our forehead – how we hated the sound
of the swick. We listened to the dark, to mermaids, to bells and to burnt
throats. You gave us the world of the moon.
This year, someone very special was lost. He was the sound of laughter
and beers on the beach, while waves kissed the shore. He was a violin; the
rasp of horsehair brushing rosin into the strings. He was a guitar around
a barrel of fire, sparks dancing in the
dark. We have dedicated this issue to
Tim Bridgman, who was, and always
will be, music at its very best.
Thank you, contributors and
readers, for bringing the world to life
through the power of sound.
Love,
Annabelle and Carlotta
Illustration
Zoe Neilson