Nobody Issue 3
Recently, it’s felt like the world is on fire. Geopolitically. Environmentally. Emotionally. Visions of flames, explosions, and unbearable heat permeate our realities, media, and metaphors. Last year’s heat broke records in 76 nations. And on a smaller scale, it feels like everyone’s been singed by their own individual firestorms, making it even more impossible to deal with the big, collective ones.
For Nobody’s third issue, we decided to take on the idea of “Burning.” But instead of stories about fire and heat in the traditional sense, we wanted to distill a more nuanced response to what it really means to burn. Think passion and fervor, consumption and destruction, tragic ends and stubborn new beginnings. Things that generate energy and things that devour it, leaving only ashes in their wake.
Our contributors have brought us confessions about the burning conquests and consequences of lust, first-hand accounts from scientists sent to an isolated island to fight acid-spitting ants, and an interview that repositions naval shipworms as the original decolonial agents. They take us to São Paulo, to upstate New York, and even to the desolate surface of Mars—or at least into the minds of the men obsessed with getting there.
Our hope is that you walk away from this issue filled—maybe even burning—with renewed faith if not in the world at large, then at least in the people who dedicate themselves to forging the ideas, creations, and connections that make our world burn a little brighter.
Recently, it’s felt like the world is on fire. Geopolitically. Environmentally. Emotionally. Visions of flames, explosions, and unbearable heat permeate our realities, media, and metaphors. Last year’s heat broke records in 76 nations. And on a smaller scale, it feels like everyone’s been singed by their own individual firestorms, making it even more impossible to deal with the big, collective ones.
For Nobody’s third issue, we decided to take on the idea of “Burning.” But instead of stories about fire and heat in the traditional sense, we wanted to distill a more nuanced response to what it really means to burn. Think passion and fervor, consumption and destruction, tragic ends and stubborn new beginnings. Things that generate energy and things that devour it, leaving only ashes in their wake.
Our contributors have brought us confessions about the burning conquests and consequences of lust, first-hand accounts from scientists sent to an isolated island to fight acid-spitting ants, and an interview that repositions naval shipworms as the original decolonial agents. They take us to São Paulo, to upstate New York, and even to the desolate surface of Mars—or at least into the minds of the men obsessed with getting there.
Our hope is that you walk away from this issue filled—maybe even burning—with renewed faith if not in the world at large, then at least in the people who dedicate themselves to forging the ideas, creations, and connections that make our world burn a little brighter.
Recently, it’s felt like the world is on fire. Geopolitically. Environmentally. Emotionally. Visions of flames, explosions, and unbearable heat permeate our realities, media, and metaphors. Last year’s heat broke records in 76 nations. And on a smaller scale, it feels like everyone’s been singed by their own individual firestorms, making it even more impossible to deal with the big, collective ones.
For Nobody’s third issue, we decided to take on the idea of “Burning.” But instead of stories about fire and heat in the traditional sense, we wanted to distill a more nuanced response to what it really means to burn. Think passion and fervor, consumption and destruction, tragic ends and stubborn new beginnings. Things that generate energy and things that devour it, leaving only ashes in their wake.
Our contributors have brought us confessions about the burning conquests and consequences of lust, first-hand accounts from scientists sent to an isolated island to fight acid-spitting ants, and an interview that repositions naval shipworms as the original decolonial agents. They take us to São Paulo, to upstate New York, and even to the desolate surface of Mars—or at least into the minds of the men obsessed with getting there.
Our hope is that you walk away from this issue filled—maybe even burning—with renewed faith if not in the world at large, then at least in the people who dedicate themselves to forging the ideas, creations, and connections that make our world burn a little brighter.
