Editor's Note

Fall always finds itself an eventful season. True to its name, there seems to be a great many things — fruits, leaves, questions, dreams — falling in chorus. Heat thrums, then retreats. It is an almost magical season, full of orange and breezy wind as the sun falls in fat wedges. I like these polysemous words — fall, which may refer to descension or decline or simply the season between summer and winter; season, too, which means to flavor or to liven up or, disparately, a period marked by particular weather patterns and daylight hours. 

I photograph fall, more so than the other seasons. After all, it represents change, parenthetical asides. What pollination, this gold dusting, this golden season (or, symbolically, this seasoning: eggy with a hint of rain). Newness hangs in the air. It dangles almost teasingly. The cold teases; temperatures fall. Leaves fall. Time falls and falls away. And everywhere, you see life saunter by, a whirl, amidst the mundane — eggs in the fridge, eggs in the fish tank. Eggs hatching and growing. And growing. 

It is hard to believe that we published the first issue of Reverie exactly a year ago today. Life has spun on, some plans falling into place and others falling down or over or away. Such reflection runs through the blood of many pieces in this issue: The fall. A fall. A fallen world / order / expectation / hope. The days following the falling. You see? All is enveloped in fall. 

In closing, I must thank all of our incredible contributors, editors, and — of course — you, the reader, for making Reverie what it is today. I hope you all fall in love with this issue. 

Isabelle Wei 

Editor-in-Chief