The dog is running - We are making a magazine that doesn’t exist, forged in the white heat of the dog days. A magazine with momentum, a dynamo that keeps moving.

The dog leaves prints - We leave marks along the way. Things to lift up and keep, things to carry in your hands. To fold, to crinkle, to batter.  

The dog digs holes - Stop chasing your tail, digging new holes in old ground. Follow your nose and find a bone to pick!  

The dog barks for another - Our magazine demands a racket not an echo. New language. Words that bite and readers that bite back. Read this and start writing. 

The dog doesn’t know where it’s running - We’re raised sick on criticism: sick of where we are and sicker still of where we’re going. Sic a dog on the policeman in your head. 

This running dog needs a pack - send us something.