For this issue, we want you to look at what and who is near you. Here, we are thinking about the word proximity. Its silences, opportunities, and actualities. What are we as humans surrounded by — do we choose to surround ourselves with — and how do we situate ourselves within language?
in the epoch of biodiversity dwindle is a vestigial ritual. We use our fists to carry the heaviest things. I can still feel thick smoke from the refineries in my throat. In this city of pollutant speckling the wide blue sky like rows of needlewater, acid rain falls slant.
Confession: I don’t know my ancestors’ names. Also: my Mandarin is lousy. I have never been to our ancestral village. My grandparents were dead before I was a teenager, and I still haven’t set up a proper altar in our house with photographs and incense.