Here, we are. I am kitchen table, open window, record just and not yet spun. My household is pandemic and canned goods and washing hands dry. Purple gloves on the sidewalk; ambulances wailing down Brooklyn Avenue. Extended intimacies are kept at an extended distance; we only leave to walk the dog.

The stakes are high, but they have always been. Violences have always threatened vulnerabilities. There has always been urgency in dreaming inclusive futures and pasts.

The artists in Even there, there are stars pose vulnerability as a source of potential, create from a place of abundance, and insist on multitudes. Let’s follow them.