At times, creation elicits — and, indeed — prompts such visceral sentiments that ringing scenes waver, unfold. It is, I believe, akin to the popping open of a bubble: profiles sharpen, hues vivify, and words — plump and buttery with use — float about in the wind. Overhead wafts phrases that tiptoe between song and silence. Lines that know and lines that don’t. The sound of a world reborn, I like to believe they bear a pulse — poems of wind and water, falling fruit, a celebration of aliveness. In silence. After years of writing, I have come to enjoy the lingering rooms between words, the stillness. In truth, I could spend days wandering those empty corridors, dropping letters here, vowels there: ornaments, really, for though they dress the page, there is a certain quality to silence that clothes narratives beyond speech alone. It is in these moments of quietude that I find the courage to explore the rooms between shapes, between cultures; liminal realms where identities intersect. Perhaps that is why I’ve always been drawn to the arts — reflections made possible both in speech and in silence. It is here that expression blossoms, inviting readers to enter, to listen to the symphony of life unfolding. Singing.
This first issue is an introduction to Reverie, and I hope that the pieces housed inside are regarded not merely as a static collection of words, nor art alone, but as an invitation to slow down, to rest, and to relish.
We, as a team, extend our heartfelt gratitude to our talented contributors, without whom this vision would remain but a fleeting thought. We also express our deepest appreciation to you, dear readers, for joining us. It is your presence, after all, that gifts Reverie its aim. As we release this maiden issue into the world, we do so with a sense of anticipation, hoping that within these pages, reveries are born.