When Mrs. Gill, the patron Mom of rungh magazine, sneezed the other day, the entire rungh crew got delayed. "Aw schucks, Mrs. Gill!" cried the gang. "We'll be late!" But it was no use. We were handed candies and told we couldn't leave for the big show until we had waited a few minutes. It's considered bad luck after all, to begin a journey after someone sneezes. So the crew chilled, sucking back on the sweets, wondering meanwhile—how long is long enough?

One, or course should always begin a journey under auspicious circumstances. But that begs a crucial question. Do we actually make our own journeys, or do they by some weird logic "make us?" In this issue, rungh presents works that explore what it is "to journey", what such an act means to our lives.

But the idea behind journeying is not so easily captured. The word "journey" is itself one of those elusive animals that language has deemed to be neither here nor there. It can refer to everything from spiritual enlightenment to the sound of late 70's rock and roll. It's there when you listen to John Coltrane and feel the senses rise. It's also there, however, when you slog through more mundane tasks, like doing load after painful load of laundry and learning that brights should never be mixed with whites.

Ultimately, journeys are pieced together from our everyday experiences. They shape who we become, and from there, who we will be. Journeys can be adventures full of vitality or they can be excruciating exercises in tedium and despair. But whatever they are, they are the salt of our existence, worth walking a thousand miles to the sea to have. As long as you find something new to contemplate from the pages of this issue, then we too can happily go back to our sandbox. There we can begin laying tracks for our next journey, knowing that this one has come to an end for now.