A greeting from the meeting of the waters to the meeting of the minds. Cumbernauld — Comar nan Allt — the place I have called home since shortly before the start of our lockdown here in Scotland, is named after the confluence of the two rivers that once occurred here. No one quite knows what rivers or streams they were now or where they have gone. There has been a settlement here since at least Roman times and will likely continue to be one until we disappear into fire or ice or flood or drought or the ineptitude of the people that we choose to lead us. 

San Antonio Review, too, is a meeting of ways, places and things — Men and women, right and left, American and International, fiction and non-fiction. All of it, we hope, coalesces into a kind of a whole that is greater than the bare sum of its parts.

It has been a pleasure to be part of SAR for two issues now. And while the future is always an uncertain one for everyone and everything, we can rely on that fact that there is always something new and unexpected that will spring forth whenever and wherever things meet.