Dear Readers, It’s that time of the year—at least in this hemisphere—where fireside chit chat, the odd pét-nat, and perhaps a pinch of soothing solemnity gets us through the frosty days. The shadowy play of the fireplace’s projection—in lieu of the light sucked from these shortest of days—creates shapes swallowed by clever capes, each one cast unequivocal to the last. A stationary act that could, if I may, lay claim to one of our earliest forms of meditation.