Foreword

This issue of Soliloquies began the same as always. We went through the routine that’s been slowly perfected since before most of our team was even born: we spread the word, we scoured poems and stories, we laughed, we cried, we wrote, we shared, and we loved the journey. But although Soliloquies is run with love, it is still a machine. It anticipates, predicts, plans. It relies on a schedule and a rhythm. What happens when the rhythm is broken? The semester ended in a slow fade that nobody could have predicted. Our classrooms became empty, meeting rooms became dormant, and the machine became jammed. The silence became heavy. Right now we have the unique opportunity to look beneath the surface of how we usually perceive and interact with art and literature. Instead of asking how should we fill our time, how do we want to? How can we fulfill our need to become grounded? How can we interpret stories and poems in different ways? We started blowing the dust off from our bookshelves, reopening our notebooks, and dog earing pages once more. To-be-read lists are getting shorter. Online book clubs have started and flourished, documents passed between friends, social media littered with praises and recommendations. It’s no secret that art has always brought us together. Our current situation is no different. We continue to be endlessly grateful for the opportunity to share this collection with you. There are stories about

loneliness, about the stillness of nature, about the activity, about aging and about swords. About how it feels to be together. At once, we get to mourn the contact that we miss, and look forward to reliving it. We’d like to thank ASFA and CASE for their continued support to bring Soliloquies to life, as well as the boundless hard work of our team. This year, we did so much reading and so much laughing, so much writing and so much sharing. As Editors-in-Chief, we’re so grateful to work with such vibrant and passionate people, and we’ll miss leading this community. Thank you. And of course, we’d like to extend our thanks to our amazing writers who continue to submit every year. We love you, we love your words. At our last launch, we decided to donate our proceeds to the Quebec Writers’ Federation to support the talented and diverse writers around us. We’re unable to hold an in-person launch for this issue, 24.2. However, if you’re reading this, we encourage you to look around you if you can. Call a friend you haven’t seen in a while. Direct a couple of dollars to a worthy organization. Walk the neighbour’s dog. Look inward and give yourself the care and support you deserve. Even apart, we’re here together. We hope this issue brings you a little light today, and always. We can’t wait to see you next year. Anabelle Zaluski and Nina Molto Editors-in-Chief