Phone calls from passing strangers. The subtle movements of someone who believes they are unobserved. The fleeting smile that falls away after a brief interaction. These are the moments I chase after, the ones so often neglected by the uncurious eye. Many call this “people-watching.”

Some might even deem it intrusive, but there is something gained when tuning into the lives of others. Listen closely to their soft exhale, or the deftness with which they walk; there is a brief moment in time when you understand them, and your eyes become theirs. This observance and understanding are what our editors fervently and eagerly searched for. In this issue, our pieces capture the ways in which our diverging paths intersect, and we become observers in someone’s life. 

This exploration into perspective is what we gathered in this issue of the Rappahannock Review. 

In this way, being an editor for this journal has evolved how I view the world and its inhabitants. For our writers to grant me and the team access to their most intimate experiences is a trust that has forever altered how I perceive others. I am no longer merely spectating but learning from and about others. This journey taught me not to lean into the comfortable and conventional, but to place myself in entirely new worlds and embrace them. As such, I focused most of my efforts on how the author utilized mechanics, tone, and a strong authorial voice to produce an experience unique to the reader. Overall, our team of editors worked tirelessly. I cannot express enough how proud I am of our collaborative efforts in making this journal.

Whether through complex poetic stanzas, fictional stories, or biographical works, there is a defining theme of relatable, yet unconventionally told, tales of human experiences. Laurel DiGangi’s “Into The World There Came a Soul Named Joan” weaves a tale of dysfunctional familial relationships through the lens of the ever-morphing form of Time. Maggie Felisberto’s “Boardwalk 452” redefines the concept of impostor syndrome through the binaries of “luck” and “unluck.” Ray Carey’s “Between Pegs” captures an intimate moment with wooden clothespins, beckoning the reader to see through the thin, white sheets flapping in the wind. 

Picture the late-night typing, the furrowed brow, and the nervous foot-tapping. Observe the writers in your mind, and read. To perceive is to become conscious; it is to open your eyes, look directly into another person’s life and truly understand them. I hope that when you read this issue, you see not just words, but the entity behind them.

Arianna Salvador, Lead Nonfiction Editor