Introduction to Dear Navigator (1:4) issue: The Greatest Possible Happiness
Adeline met Leonard in 1910. A decade and century born under the sign of their Dreadnought, our Abyssinian-robed charlatans cooing and purring—
David Antin says this is why he became a literary critic: talking was as close as I could come to thinking. In the architectural land of a thousand different cities swallowed, where Jasmina Metwaly removes the image, the cinematographer’s real truth underpins the man nickname veracity slow-standing in stereoscope. al-Qahira Fustat the conqueror In the largest city west of China we wrote about Antigone’s chromatics—that was our verisimilitude, in the architectural land, and we kept self-publishing our moderns under symmetrical rule.
Talking was as close as I could come—
Tell the truth, but tell it: extant. Mohammed Ezz exacts the literal imprint of photography—“drawn with the light”—and recalls William James: “The first lecture on psychology I ever heard being the first I gave.” To bear witness, the fire must protect its light crimson hue.
The conceptual history of volcanoed lands: the love of a man who loves a woman who loves a man as a woman loves. Each work is rendered someplace in between information science, metaphysics, philosophy of mind, and sight alone. Ask Carlos Soto-Román. Read the inscription Ptolemy II etched in the mordant as far as the Bitter Lakes. Extent, our previous capital.
Robert Fitterman sells word-wares; Amanda Kerdahi makes ghost-glyphs with Yukio Horie’s felt-tipped pen; Amelia Gray grass and milk, algae and bone colors in alternate lines with a fictitious emission spectra. Salt and birds will be our funeral offerings. Maged Zaher returns for cedar, glass, the eye of a fish canned in Tyrian purple.
A & L’s love turned the shade of newsprint. Time started by Yale alumni, Time the vice-chairman of the board, Time the right-hand man the advertisement the content in seria the continental ignorance. Amado Alfadni paints the slate over in trenchant colors. 1136 1910 1987 2011 begin again—
Kristen Gallagher on a beautiful drive, girds indictments on the English Coast, bystands aesthetes on Wimpole Street with weariness—that sour navigation. Immanuel Kant coughed up an epigraph in which all pluralities are possible.
“Dearest, I feel certain I am going mad again. I feel we can’t go through another of those terrible times. And I shan’t recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can’t concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be.”—Virginia Woolf, 18 March 1941
Well, little-godded one: eudaimonia, our flourishing, was the end of all things. Under an elm, we receive reviews of our arrant biographies and under an elm, we sound.
as close as we could come—
Kristi McGuire, with Elizabeth Metzger Sampson
Editor: Elizabeth Metzger Sampson
Curator and Content Editor: Kristi McGuire
Editor-at-Large: Chris Cuellar
Associate Editors: Rebecca Elliott, Heather McShane, Colin Winnette
Spiritual Advisor: Sarah Archer
Chicago and Cairo, Summer 2011