What faith, the state, and capital fear are the perils and promises of the dark’s formlessness: to withdraw into the pure solitude of sleep and dreams’ unreason; to blush with the pure elation of dance and a rave’s ephemeral friendships; even to have one’s edges undone by the murmurs of ghosts or a celestial sign.

Need a break from the tyranny of the sun? Then light a candle, a headlamp, a flare – anything but your phone – and grap your copy to follow us into the possibility of the night.