Dear Readers,

These are my first printed words in post-, and probably also my last. So a bit of hello and goodbye at the same time. We’re not entirely strangers though—this probably isn’t the first work of mine you’ve seen. This is my 57th issue that I’ve designed for post- (I counted for the first time today). So if you’ve read an issue of post- anytime since fall 2022 and noticed any column alignment errors, that's on me. After four years, the individual issues and the long prod nights with good food and good friends start to blend together. However, I do remember the way it all felt and the genuine happiness that doing layout for this wonderful magazine has brought me.

Our writers this week have also been thinking about memory, and what you take with you. In Feature, Nahye reflects on how expressing grief and pain in writing can rob the writer of those feelings, and Francis writes on how to see the good in uncertainty. In Narrative, Helen talks about the memories of home that sweet potatoes evoke, and Jedidiah discusses the bittersweet nature of visiting a childhood home. In A&C, Sara reflects on Fleabag and the omnipresence of love, and Ishan talks about the book Why Fish Don’t Exist and finding order in chaos. In Lifestyle, Daphne channels Buzzfeed for a Thayer restaurant personality quiz, Jedidiah reflects on Google storage limits and the ephemerality of memory, and Lily has created a crossword you need a little luck to solve. For post-pourri, Emmanuel writes about rugby and approaching new experiences with neutrality.

I’ll be leaving layout in the capable hands of two incredible new co-chiefs, who I’ve had the privilege to know, train, and see totally eclipse my own design abilities. The role of designer, and especially layout chief, is a supporting role above anything else, and I love it for that reason. I get the opportunity to highlight the work of all the talented writers and artists on post- and package it up for you, the reader, to enjoy. As far as I’m concerned, there’s no better job here.

There’s a wall in the office that was bare when I first got here. Over the years, it has slowly filled up with photos, signs, and a haphazard assortment of other objects documenting in some way the people who spent their Wednesday nights in that room. From my point of view right now, graduation and beyond feels a bit like copying my consciousness and memories into a clone and sending it forward into the unknown where I (as I am now) cannot follow. It’s hard to know what will transfer, which parts of me will keep moving forward and which parts will stay behind. But I’ll always be happy knowing that some little relic of me—my beat up freshman year ID— will stay affixed to that wall, in the company of friends, no matter where that future self goes.

In case I don’t see ya,
Gray Martens