Beyond the Cocoon

There’s a lot of world out there. Explore this issue and start seeing beyond your cocoon, then test your memory with these interactive pieces

Header photograph and artwork Jordan Keller-Wilson

Placemat Playtime

Remember those restaurant placemats from when you were a kid? The ones that came with a handful of crayons (mostly broken) and probably saved your parents from an actual breakdown?

Yeah, like this

That’s what we’re going for with this two-for-one interactive piece.

So, in a world that can be full of wonderful and terrifying possibilities, grab your placemat and your crayon and get to work.

Header photograph and artwork Jordan Keller-Wilson

The world is a whole lot less lonely when you’re making connections. Create groups of four using some important words from the pieces in this issue.

With this Connections game, we wanted you to get a small taste of what it’s like to organize an issue. Each one is a little different, but it’s always a special thrill when we start to see the connections between pieces. As an issue begins to take shape, each work shifts and twists, new details emerging as they bump up against one another. That’s partly why we take such joy and care in setting the order of pieces within an issue. It’s my favorite part: reading pieces aloud, listening to the beginnings and endings flow together and apart.

Whether you’re familiar with the New York Times word game or not, it’ll be a good time.

How to Play
Find groups of four connected words (e.g. point, shrug, smile, clap – Gestures), then hit submit to see if you’re right. See how many guesses it takes to get them all, then send it on.

Header photograph and artwork Jordan Keller-Wilson

In the spirit of jumping into uncertainty and making something new together, we invite you to pick two random numbers between one and eight (or spin our wheel twice) and form a new micro story.

First Number
1. That April night,
(“Three Aprils,” Danielle Monroe)

2. so i guess that’s why 
(“my southern bones,” Emma Townsend)

3. When we [collide], 
(“Missed Connections,” Jennifer Lai)

4. When she brushes her hand against the back of my neck, 
(“I Love You, God, But This is the Last Time I’m Asking,” Lindy Biller)

5. During a late night alone with too many glasses of whiskey,  
(“December,” Sara Rauch)

6. Because, in Texas, 
(“Self-Congratulation,” M. M. Adjarian)

7. Despite wearing an oversized nautical sweater, 
(“To the Girl Working at the Tea Shop in Provincetown,” Harriet Weaver)

8. When upheaval is crackling on the horizon, 
(Issue 15 Editor’s Note)

Second Number
1. I know what it is to be alive. 
(“Three Aprils,” Danielle Monroe)

2. my mother laughs with/ coyotes and wraps snakes/ around her wrists. 
(“my southern bones,” Emma Townsend)

3. You [post] about me in the Missed Connections. 
(“Missed Connections,” Jennifer Lai)

4. I close my eyes and burrow under the blankets. 
(“I Love You, God, But This is the Last Time I’m Asking,” Lindy Biller)

5. You don sweats and crank the heat and put a frozen pot pie in the oven. 
(“December,” Sara Rauch)

6. Texas women love and curse with fatal bless your hearts 
(“Self-Congratulation,” M. M. Adjarian)

7. I’m sorry for my fantasies 
(“To the Girl Working at the Tea Shop in Provincetown,” Harriet Weaver)

8. It’s about fucking time for something new. 
(Issue 15 Editor’s Note)

Header artwork by Jordan Keller-Wilson

Step off the trail, search through the elemental wilderness for the right words, the ones that will make a difference.

Header photograph and artwork by Jordan Keller-Wilson

How to Play
Click the button below, make a few choices, end up with your own sweet treat experience using pieces in this issue. Maybe the answers will tell you something.

Header photograph and artwork by Jordan Keller-Wilson

I know we just did one of these earlier this year, but wasn’t it fun? Aren’t you ready to make some more connections? I bet that’s exactly what you’re longing for. Well, here it is. Sate your dark hunger on these words and categories from the latest issue. After all, isn’t connection what we’re all seeking in this vast chasm of human experience?

Whether you’re familiar with the New York Times word game or not, it’ll be a good time.

How to Play
Find groups of four connected words (e.g. point, shrug, smile, clap – Gestures), then hit submit to see if you’re right. See how many guesses it takes to get them all, then send it on.

Header photograph and artwork by Jordan Keller-Wilson

The wild thing about an apocalypse is how quickly we forget. See if you can refresh your memory with a little matching game.

We’ve pulled a few words and matching images from each piece in this issue and laid them out for you to pair together. Remember playing this game as a kid? Trying to divide the world up into neat little copies of itself before the clock ran out?

How to Play
Click on cards to match a word or phrase from one card with the image from another. Can you match them all? Can you remember the world as it was?

Header photograph and artwork by Jordan Keller-Wilson

As Holly said in her editor’s note, putting together an issue is often about making unusual connections, finding the threads that tie one piece to another, the points at which each resonates with those around it. After all, isn’t connection what we’re all seeking in this vast chasm of human experience?

For this issue’s interactive piece, we encourage you to make some connections. Whether you’re familiar with the New York Times word game or not, we think you’ll have fun with it. Now get connecting!

How to Play
Find groups of four connected words (e.g. point, shrug, smile, clap – Gestures), then hit submit to see if you’re right. See how many guesses it takes to get them all, then send it to a friend or lover or whoever—it’s the connection that counts.

Header photograph by Jen Ippensen
Header artwork by Jordan Keller-Wilson

In the spirit of compaction, of mashing worlds together and making something new, we invite you to roll two dice and form a new micro story.

Die 1 Result
1. as our brains ramp up and spiral down 
(“Just Chill Out, Okay”)

2. As they scarf down bits between running food 
(“Easter Sunday”)

3. In her cubicle 
(“Naked Protest”)

4. when the long sleep comes 
(“The Love That We Have Been”)

5. next to the Italian place
(“When You Share a Small Town”)

6. the compaction forms something new 
(Issue 9 Editor’s Note)

Die 2 Result
1. we can’t believe our bodies can feel so high and so low 
(“Just Chill Out, Okay”)

2. the servers have prepared a feast 
(“Easter Sunday”)

3. the women swerve, swoop, resettle, a flock of starlings 
(“Naked Protest”)

4. I hope you are with me 
(“The Love That We Have Been”)

5. I watch the sunrise 
(“When You Share a Small Town”)

6. It is, all of it, a condensing 
(Issue 9 Editor’s Note)

Header photograph by Holly Pelesky
Header artwork by Jordan Keller-Wilson