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issue 1

Sarah Bartlett PRAGUE The bells let themselves in through the window. Outside, snow has covered every surface— the ground looks strange, like fields of white mice finally gone still. You lay on the bed with your eyes closed. You don’t comment on the bells. I want to be first to make tracks across the perfect surface, then come back up to observe the proof. This isn’t an experiment: if I left you in the dark, you’d stay there.