Dear readers,

The last few months have sparked a metamorphosis within this journal. I hope I can speak for my lovely (and ever-growing!) staff that L’Éphémère Review continues to reach beyond our expectations. I never imagined that what started out as a small outlet for creative growth and support would travel to readers at every ends of the earth. The impact this journal has had on myself, my staff, and its contributors and readers is insurmountable. It’s enough to bring a smile to my face, even in these uncertain times.

Which brings me to the theme of Issue II. The release of our inaugural issue coincided with a deepening sorrow within myself. I spent a year abroad studying in California, relishing the touch of every drop of sunlight on my skin. I felt the first inklings of deeply-emboldened friendship, happiness, heartache, and renewal. I loved and I lost and I loved again more deeply than before. I changed, intrinsically, as a person inside and out.

And then I came home.

I didn’t know there was a name for my homesickness and for my longing for a place I was never born or grew up in. For the place and people I miss so deeply I break my own heart. Discovering the word hiraeth finally gave voice to the ache of realizing I never belonged where I thought I should and that my birthplace was never, truly, home.

When we released hiraeth as the theme of Issue II we received submission upon submission from writers and artists around the world telling us how long they’ve lived with this feeling, how relieved they were to finally put a name to their heartache. The work of these twelve writers and artists exemplify the strength of vulnerability, the beauty of the storming oceans within. It is heartache, it is sorrow, it is regret and longing but it is also hope.

Hanging above the desk where I sit now to write to you, there is a hand-lettered piece given to me by a friend in California. I requested a quote by Abraham Verghese, knowing that it would help ease my inner earthquakes when I lie awake and dread the rising sun. It reads “Wasn’t that the definition of home? Not where you are from, but where you are wanted.” If you cannot create the home you need within yourself, let us in. Let us be your home. It is the very least we can do.

All the best,

Kanika Lawton
L’Éphémère Review