Put your hands over your eyes, jump out of the plane / There is no pilot, you are not alone / Stand by / This is the time, and this is the record of the time.” —Laurie Anderson, From the Air (Big Science, 1982)
“It is now 89 seconds to midnight.” —2025 Doomsday Clock Statement, Science and Security Board, Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists (January 28, 2025)
Dear Reader,
We have transitioned from the turbulence referenced in #39 to what can now truly be described as apocalyptic times. The previous year was marked by the ongoing conflict in Ukraine, the relentless genocide in Gaza, and the devastation caused by the Atlantic hurricanes in North and Central America. This year started off somewhat ominously with exploding cars, planes falling from skies, and wildfires blazing in the heart of winter. As I write this in Spring 2025, during the papal interregnum, the apocalyptic fires are still raging, fascism is gaining ground, and ceasefires remain as elusive as gold kryptonite.
“The past was a very fine thing, in its place.” —Marilynne Robinson, Home
The final pieces in this folio are as eclectic as ever, yet share common, universal themes: reflecting on and yearning for the past, evaluating the present, contemplating change, and aspiring for the future. Judith Sara Gelt looks over her shoulder at three broken relationships, a process she terms ‘tattered retrospection’; Gabe Montesanti mourns both people and ‘material items’ they ‘had to leave behind’; Nora Rose Tomas reminisces about the early days of the internet when the world felt smaller, more interconnected, and secure; and Ekaterina Petrova, homesick for both a time and a place, remembers arriving in an expansive new country two decades ago, feeling ‘bright-eyed’ and ‘terrified’…
“The progression is slow, incremental. And now we are left, sliding into our pockets- something larger than ourselves.” —Nora Rose Tomas, When I Pray My iPhone Listens
Everyone is on a journey, sometimes circling back to the past but always moving forward, even when we seem to have come to a standstill, or when it feels like the very tectonic plates of the earth are shifting beneath us. We can choose to reflect with warmth and nostalgia, feel homesick, or embrace the present while holding onto hope for the future—or perhaps all three (or four) at once… And so, we have now arrived, maybe ‘bright-eyed’, maybe ‘terrified’, at a pivotal point in history and no-one has experienced a world quite like this before. With just 89 seconds to midnight, events are accelerating rapidly. The tilt of Earth’s axis has shifted. The turbulence continues. So please ‘extinguish all cigarettes. Place your tray tables in their upright, locked position’ —and fasten your seatbelts for what lies ahead. Stay safe and stay connected.
—Mizzy Hussain
May 2025
Postscript: It is with much sadness that we bid farewell to my former colleague, the incredibly thoughtful and talented SG Huerta, to whom I’d like to dedicate the piece ‘Д as in Homecoming’ by Ekaterina Petrova. I would like to extend a huge thanks for all SG’s hard work as Nonfiction Co-editor at ANMLY and wish them success in all their future pursuits.
I also want to express my appreciation to the ever-growing and dedicated team of Nonfiction Readers for their valuable insights and feedback.
Featured in this folio:
ANMLY #40 Nonfiction Team
Mizzy Hussain, Nonfiction Co-Editor
SG Huerta, Nonfiction Co-Editor
leena aboutaleb, Nonfiction & Poetry Reader
Stephanie Kaylor, Nonfiction & Poetry Reader
noam keim, Nonfiction Reader
Ìjàpá O, Nonfiction Reader
Fred Banks, Nonfiction Reader
Joefel Bolo, Nonfiction Reader
Jie Venus Cohen, Nonfiction Reader
Siddharth Divakaruni, Nonfiction Reader
Amax Jimmy, Nonfiction Reader
Shranoup Tandukar, Nonfiction & Poetry Reader
May 2025