Spring at the Advocate is a time for leaving.
School wanes, days get hotter. People trickle
out of Cambridge in ones and twos and then all
at once. Cardboard boxes pile up on the sides
of streets, lled with the expendable matter of
college life: textbooks and miniature trash bins,
cheap desk lamps and plastic shelves. Students
haul them into basements, stack them up in
identical rows, and let them sit for a while, as
they coat with dust and suffuse with the smell
of peat. Then, at a certain point in May, casual
goodbyes gain weight. As our friends say good-
bye for the last time in a while, “see you soon,”
we respond, not knowing if we will.
We’ve always found it uncanny and sad
that a mass of people can disperse so seamlessly,
like fog in sunlight. Your social life warps and
shrinks as the people you run into every day
become elsewhere. But the Spring issue comes
to you from this nonspace; our writers and art-
ists bring you with them as they go home, here,
and away. Fittingly, these pages present visions
of worlds in constant transit: mighty kingdoms
dissipate into playgrounds, geological history is
reverse-engineered, empress dowagers are wiped
from the record-books, and the distant past grows
tentacles to come knocking on our collective
front doors.
Open it up and let it take you there.
