And so I fell in love with a color—in this case, the color blue—as if falling under a spell, a spell I fought to stay under and get out from under, in turns.

Well, and what of it? A voluntary delusion, you might say. That each blue object could be a kind of burning bush, a secret code meant for a single agent, an X on a map too diffuse ever to be unfolded in entirety but that contains the knowable universe. How could all the shreds of blue garbage bags stuck in brambles, or the bright blue tarps flapping over every shanty and fish stand in the world, be, in essence, the fingerprints of God?

Maggie Nelson, Bluets

Why does blue lure? In this issue we launch a forensic investigation after the blue “fingerprints of God.” To reach these nether parts of creation we don a diving suit, hold our breath and plunge into the sea.

Welcome to the deep blue of The Word Addict.

We sink to face the blue origins of things, the blue aspect, the blue veil of that which is seen.

We hold that blue is a prism for a certain sphere of the world, a realm of the sublime, a doorway that leads both heavenwards and hellwards; by passing through blue, one may ascend as well as descend.

Once ascended, the location is nowhere, mathematics loosen, directions lose meaning.

In the Galway Cathedral, the last great stone cathedral to be erected in Europe, there is a dome that draws heavily on Renaissance architecture. Instead of a Michelangelesque fresco, this dome is painted blue, in blue only.

As one enters through the grand nave, slowly approaching the transept—an area set crosswise to the nave in a cruciform—one then sees the glorious blue dome towering high above the crossing. One feels as if glimpsing heaven.

Whereas the last instalment analysed surfaces, decadence and glamour, here we probe the bottom—the foundation, the bedrock.  We descend to the depths to see if that what we find is just a bare wasteland; if the essence of things truly is nothing.

“Nothing?”

We promise we shan’t kill ourselves—at least not till you finish reading us.

This issue is packed: We have Jaromír Lelek, Willie Watson, Kian Wilcox, Aljaž Koprivnikar, Dejan Koban, Tzvi Shmilovich, Aren Ock and Casey Carr showcasing their blue poems. M.S. Mekibes, Peppur Chambers, Jesse Chase, Fergus Doyle and Jan Luhan offering blue prose.

Especially commissioned cover art has been delivered by Wade Pizarro, a New York-based gothic and fantasy artist and graphic designer. He has confessed that upon showing an early draft of his work to a colleague at work, she, aghast, asked what the hell was wrong with him. That is when Wade realised he was doing it right; that he captured the required blue despair.

Shendra Stucki, a Swiss artist, has contributed her mesmerising artwork where a seated, mannequin-like figure is being slowly flooded with blue.

Our graphic department, Eli Anders, has done an amazing job rendering the blue issue in an apt, cold design. You are encouraged to read the intention behind the design on the back cover.

For the very first time, The Word Addict has a logo! The mind behind it belongs to Hunter Andrews, a multi-media artist and Humanities student from Nashville, Tennessee. You may find the logo, digitalized by Filip Růžička, a pixel architect, on the backcover.