“Here, We Center Us”

Especially in a year in which sx salon has gone through significant transitions (with changes in two-thirds of the editorial team), it seems appropriate to mark this anniversary issue in the spirit of Sankofa, looking to the platform’s past as we imagine its future horizons. So the founding editor (Kelly) and current editor (Rachel) agreed to a dialogue over Zoom (on 9 September 2025) during which we would formulate and respond to questions together: sharing our particular experiences in the position, considering the constraints and opportunities that have characterized the platform’s run so far, and discussing where we see sx salon fitting into the landscape of Caribbean studies journals. What follows is a collaboratively edited transcript of that conversation.

Rachel L. Mordecai: Thank you for agreeing to this conversation with me in honor of the fiftieth issue of sx salon. The first issue was published in 2010—do I have that right?

Kelly Baker Josephs: Yes. Really, we founded it in 2009 but published the first issue in 2010.

RM: You suggested that our model for this should be that we generate the questions together as we go along, and I love that. My first question for you is, How did sx salon happen?

KBJ: Before I answer that, I’m going to ask you if you read my piece “What is Journal Work?”¹ I think there might be some things there on the story of sx salon.

RM: I will go look at the piece. Can you give me a four-sentence-or-less version now?

KBJ: Sure. I was managing editor of Small Axe, the print journal, and I was receiving queries about book reviews; I also wanted a space to review and discuss more literature. Small Axe wasn’t doing reviews at that point, didn’t have the space. We were really coming up against page limits in the cost of the print journal at that time, coming up against what we could fit in. And it didn’t mean that the Small Axe collective, or David Scott, didn’t think other things were important. It just wasn’t possible with our resources at the time. 

So, I asked David—it’s a long time ago, you know, the fine details of things are not clear—and he gave the go-ahead to do a digital publication, a digital arm of Small Axe, which we called sx salon. It started with mostly reviews and interviews for the first two issues. We did not have a discussion section until sx salon 3, and it was partially due to an internal grant at CUNY [City University of New York] that I was able to pull things together to have a small discussion section, which was about Caribbean culture online because I had been thinking about that for a little bit. The grant also allowed us to bring Kelly Martin, our wonderful Small Axe copyeditor, on board with sx salon. So it was the confluence of working at Small Axe, me thinking more about digital spaces, and the CUNY grant that allowed us to grow it a little bit more. And, of course, the support of the Caribbean literary and academic community. 

The way that sx salon manifested, the way it is shaped, had a lot to do with Small Axe (both the journal and the project), and I go through some of that in the “journal work” piece. In particular, the technological restraints of the site we already had. We started with WordPress, which I knew next to nothing about then, and I was just like, okay, let me go learn WordPress. That’s when I also started Caribbean Commons, because it came out at the same time I was co-running the Caribbean Epistemologies seminar at the CUNY Graduate Center with Herman Bennett.² 

So it was a couple of things happening at the same time that shaped sx salon—in many ways, that’s how a lot of things happen. For Caribbean Epistemologies, we were gathering all these different people across CUNY and across the tri-state area who were doing Caribbean studies. I drew on that group of people. I’d have to go back to look and see who the first reviews were by, but I’m sure that a good amount came out of Caribbean Epistemologies, of me saying, will you write a review? I remember Facebook at that time being . . . not what it is now, being more community-oriented, and I posted there, and basically, the way that I do, emailing everybody and saying, we’re starting sx salon. And remember, by now, I’ve been at Small Axe for over two years. I have an email Rolodex going strong at this point. I remember going to the first Bocas Lit Fest in 2011 and telling everyone about sx salon. We had flyers printed, I remember, to hand out at CSA [the Caribbean Studies Association conference]; I went to CSA that year, I went to Bocas, I went to the West Indian Literature Conference, I went everywhere I could, trying to get the word out and to get more submissions. 

I’ve been giving a much longer answer than the four sentences you asked for, but I want to add that David Scott was also very keen on keeping the literary visible in the print journal. The Small Axe Project launched a literary competition in 2009 and the print journal published the winners each year while the competition ran. sx salon helped expand that (David’s preface to the first issue with the SX Literary Competition is worth reading for thinking about the importance of the literary in Caribbean studies).³

That’s the backstory. And yes, it has been successful. People have embraced it, I think, partially because there has not been enough space for the literary that reflects the ways that we depend on it. And so to have this space, and to have a space that was growing out of something that was already established, not trying to break fully new ground, was, I think, also important. I don’t know that it would have worked if I had tried starting something new on my own. It needed the Small Axe brand behind it.

RM: Thank you, that’s very helpful. That certainly has been my impression in my tenure. I would say that, for me, it’s a couple of things. I have found people really enthusiastic about being in sx salon. I mean, every so often I get someone who pitches an essay, and there’s something about the language of the email that makes me write back and say, Okay, just to clarify, this is not Small Axe, the print journal. And then they walk back the pitch. But that doesn’t happen very often; usually, people know who they’re pitching to and they’re excited about us. 

I attribute that to three things. I think it is the association with Small Axe. I think it is the open-access, digital, accessible nature of the platform that people appreciate. And I think it’s your work. By the time I stepped into it, sx salon was already known as this space where interesting things happen, where interesting conversations are had, where good new Caribbean work appears. And so, in some ways, I have been coasting for—what is it, twenty issues or something—on your incredible stewarding of the platform since the beginning. 

So, to return to our question-generating model: What questions do you have about sx salon as it marks its fiftieth issue?

KBJ: I can’t believe fifty. When I started it, we had this vision that it could run six times a year.

RM: I noticed that. I went back and reread your first intro, and I did have a bit of a chuckle.⁴

KBJ: [laughs] Then we went to four. Then we went to three, and that’s where it has landed. Yeah, we had a different vision of what was possible. I want to ask you—because it’s now almost, like, half you, right? 

RM: [laughs] Not quite; I think it’s 60/40.

KBJ: Okay, nice round number.

RM: I looked, and issue 31—which you actually put together, right?—was the first one that I was officially editor for, so you were 1 through 30, and 31 to 50 is me. So yeah, that’s 60/40.

KBJ: Alright, that is a lot. Given that, I want to ask you—What did you come in thinking, and have you had a vision for change? Because one of the reasons I left was not just to do other things but because I feel leadership should change. I wouldn’t have been able to take it further than I did, and other people can take it elsewhere. So what was your reason for saying yes, and then what do you think you’ve done? Maybe that’s too big a question to ask; maybe just the first question.

RM: My reason for saying yes was twofold. One, that I admired Small Axe and admired sx salon. I had been publishing book reviews every now and then with sx salon by the time you and David extended the invitation, and I liked it. I liked the ethics of how the place was run; I liked the professionalism of how it appeared. I feel very strongly that we should put good work out into the world. Which doesn’t mean it has to be perfect, and I don’t have one model in my head of what good work can look like, but . . . it does exclude sloppy work.

KBJ: [laughs] Which you know when you see.

RM: Which you know when you see, yes. So it was a project in all its dimensions that I was excited about being a part of. Also, I had been involved in editorial work before. In fact, at the time that you asked me, I was still on the editorial board at Journal of West Indian Literature. Which is another publication that I admire, and I had a wonderful time on that board. But it gave me this curiosity about what it would mean to be the person creating the editorial vision. To be the person who thought, Now I would like to do X, and then made it happen. I was interested in that. 

And I didn’t see that as charting a departure from what you had been doing with sx salon. I just saw it as . . . You can do a special issue, or a special section—and in my innocence, I thought, It can be fairly lightweight to pull together, not a whole lot of heavy lifting. And it can be an interesting, self-contained thing, and then the journal can move on to the next thing. I liked that idea, and I have been able to do that a couple of times. One was the special section on Caribbean texts and textiles, because that is an interest of mine: material culture, and particularly the textile.⁵ And I really enjoyed the process of pulling that together. We published grad students and early-career scholars, and there were a couple of other scholars that I invited and they responded very generously, but they just weren’t able to contribute for that time frame, which I’m sad about, but I’m proud of that issue.

And then the issue we did more recently that Danielle Legros Georges had a major role in curating: the issue on contemporary francophone Caribbean literature.⁶ The framing of it was hers: looking again at territory that we think we have already covered, and the title, “La terre renversée,” that was Danielle. That’s an issue that I’m very proud of. Then there are other issues that I’m proud of that I just literally lucked into, that just landed on my desk. We published this wonderful special discussion section that Njelle Hamilton guest-edited on Rita Indiana’s Tentacle. Njelle wrote and said, Listen, I have this thing, you want to publish it? And I was like, Yes! So, it has been this wonderful experience of planning and vision and having folks respond, usually quite generously, to your invitations—and also serendipity, right? People are like, I have a thing . . .

There are things that I wish that I had done, that I have not yet done. Like you, I feel that leadership should change. I’m only at 40 percent, I’m only at twenty issues; I’m not trying to get out ahead of myself, but I’m trying to figure out how you know when you’ve done your part for this project and it’s really time to let somebody with new ideas and a different vision come in.

KBJ: And new energy.

RM: And new energy, yes. [laughs] So I’m asking myself, What are the things that I want to do with sx salon that I have not yet done? And how can I map that trajectory out for myself and see how much of it is doable, so that I’m not holding onto it beyond my sell-by date, shall we say.

KBJ: [laughs] Yes. Yes, I understand. I think that question of the sell-by date is a real one, but also, I think, perhaps because of the research I do on death and sundowning and so on, I really think about not just sell-by date but backup. Which you may have dealt with recently with Danielle’s passing. What are the things in place should something happen to me? I mean, not that the life of the journal is necessarily tied to my life, or your life, but what are the backups I have so that other people’s work has been safeguarded, especially when it’s in the digital format? So that has also been something that I have thought about in a position of editor, right? Founder and editor, as well as editor—even when I came on as managing editor for Small Axe, I tried to set things up in such a way that it was archived and findable and reachable by someone other than me. It’s hard. It’s hard to do that. You never do it perfectly. But I think that one of the important things about being an editor, being in charge of other people’s work, is making sure that, to the best of our ability, that work remains accessible to the public that we imagined it for in the first place.

RM: That is a good and sobering injunction. I mean, especially in the wake of Danielle’s passing, I have thought about that question more in terms of the continuing operation of the journal, rather than archives and backing up. Some things are in place, and some things I intend to put into place, so that should, God forbid, we ever have to go through a transition that tragic and unexpected again, there’s more of a pathway. That’s something that I’m still working through, but it is very much on my radar now.

But the archiving is an interesting question, right? And this is why it’s useful for me to have this conversation with you. Because I often tra-la-la through the world, expecting that things are going to continue. I think, the Small Axe Project has a website and will continue to have a website; as long as Small Axe continues to have a website, sx salon will be accessible. But of course, we know nothing is for sure, right? 

KBJ: Mm-hmm.

RM: So redundancies are important things. The problem is that my first idea is, I’m going to download all the PDFs. But then what? Then they become part of my personal archive, which is probably considerably less durable than the Small Axe website. So . . . the only next move that I can think of is dLOC [the Digital Library of the Caribbean].⁷ Do I go to dLOC and say, I’d like to archive sx salon with you; how do we go about doing that?

KBJ: Well, the Internet Archive—the Wayback Machine—is one way. That does save things, but how far in they go . . .  You might need to ask them to save it in a particular way. I don’t fully know that process, but I know that it exists. And they might say no, who knows? dLOC is another way to think about that. I worked with them on my current publishing project, Manchineel + Seagrape, which publishes Caribbean plays. Plays are longer texts than I had been used to publishing digitally, so I really thought hard about backups and longevity.⁸ I collaborated with dLOC and the University of Florida rather than doing it on my own. It doesn’t mean that those things don’t go down, too. But it means that there are way more people working on it if it does go down. Also, dLOC has everything backed up, as I understand it, as well. 

One of the things that, when we started sx salon, we thought would be more useful was the ability to include multimedia in the digital format. But we found ourselves, at least at that time, operating still with the mindset of print. We haven’t broken that yet. Or I haven’t broken it, even with Manchineel + Seagrape. I mean, I’m stuck to some extent because of the platform I chose. It is very much built to support text-heavy publications. They don’t carry multimedia. But with sx salon, we were coming up against, again, the technology. I remember Kamau Brathwaite wanted to do something different (as he often did), and we had to just embed it from YouTube. And now even that is gone. Because it was an embedded text, and the video isn’t on YouTube anymore. So the limitation was, in part, due to the technology. In part, it was due to our brains, our mindset. And in part, it was the money we had and didn’t have to pay for storage. So some things that we had envisioned—aside from the six issues a year—simply didn’t happen. And I find that I’m still having that problem. That my brain is still computing from the foundation of print publishing, of print restrictions. 

So—and this is where I was going—with Manchineel + Seagrape, I want introductions for the plays, right? But I was being held up from publishing the play because I didn’t have the introduction yet. And then I realized: the platform I use lets you go back and add things to issues. It’s set up for that! It’s designed to publish different articles at different times within the same issue. And I thought, oh . . . I could publish the play! It does not need an introduction in front of it to be available to the world. And that was a mind-blown moment. You would think that having done so much time with sx salon it would not have been, but it was. Because we were operating under the model of an issue being set. Even though we could go back and add things, we would not. We wouldn’t even go back and change things. 

I don’t remember if I’ve said this somewhere else before; I know I’ve said it, but I don’t remember if I’ve said it in print: an author we had published wanted to change their name, because they had changed their name, and requested we change their name in an earlier issue. And I said, no, the archive is the archive, and it should stay that way. If you want to ask about things you regret not doing, that’s one of the things that I still am just like, well, why not make the change?

RM: Hmm.

KBJ: You know, the archive, the archive, the archive—it remains one of my songs. But it’s not print. It’s not . . . stuck. So that is something, I guess, to weave into the conversation.

RM: Yes, I mean, I wasn’t going to ask you about regrets, but I’m happy to, if you want to talk about them. That moment of the name change is interesting. What about thinking of it as creating a palimpsest? So you go in and you change the name, or you indicate the name change, but you don’t overwrite the previous name. Perhaps you change the name, but then you add a note that says, at the time of the issue's appearance, the author’s name was X; as of this date, the author’s name is Y. And I know nothing about this situation; I don’t know if the person would have been okay with that. We now live in a moment where people change their names for all kinds of very important reasons that I’m down with, as a political and ethical position. But also—the archive, right?

KBJ: [laughs] The archive!

RM: The archive. And the due consideration that I do think we should give to our readers, to our audience. I wouldn’t want to produce that moment of, “Is something wrong with me?” in someone who remembered reading something that had a very clear attribute, whether it was the title or the author or whatever, and then they go back and look at it, and it’s been overwritten in such a way that they are now questioning their own past experience of the piece. I’m not down with that.

KBJ: Mm-hmm.

RM: But I do love that mind-blown moment that you had with regard to Manchineel + Seagrape, where you were like, I can publish the play and then add to it. This is why the idea of the palimpsest is appealing to me, because adding layers of complexity, contextualization, even correction—I think that’s always generative. I’m really interested in any kind of annotated text; I’m the person who takes the books out from the library and is curious and amused by the marginalia, rather than just outraged by it. But thank you for encouraging me to think about the backup thing. Because the archive, the archive, the archive. 

KBJ: I mean, it’s fifty issues! Many of us cannot retrieve the Small Axe print journal issues 1 through 3, or actually 1 through 6, I think. Just because that was at UWI Press, and no one digitized that. So it’s not that print had us beat in terms of preservation, it’s just . . . thinking about it from the outset.

RM: Yeah. You want to talk about regrets?

KBJ: I just did. That was it. [laughs]

RM: [laughs] I don’t know, from my tenure so far, that I have regrets per se. I will say that there is one major concern of mine that has so far not really made it into sx salon, except for that special issue on Tentacle, which is a climate fiction novel. And that is climate change and the Caribbean’s particular vulnerability to climate change. So that’s on my list of future issues that we need to do: we need to do a climate change issue. But in some ways, I would rather have one piece in every issue on climate change / climate fiction / eco-criticism / literatures of catastrophe / ecocide—however you want to frame it. So that there isn’t this “Okay, we’ve covered it” sense of things.

KBJ: I like that. You know, the doing of something in a semi-regular way for a period of time really appeals to me. That it doesn’t have to be this issue and it’s done. That, maybe for the next year, we are thinking about climate change. Another thing I did with Caribbean Epistemologies that I have never figured out a space for is a return. David does this occasionally, too, in Small Axe. A return to a canonical piece of Caribbean literature or Caribbean literary theory, to say, What does it do now? What has it done since then? You know, like, what does Sylvia Wynter’s essay “Beyond Miranda’s Meanings . . .” do now, or do today, or not do today?⁹ Or a return to Paule Marshall’s Praisesong for the Widow to ask, Do we still teach this? Why do we still teach this? Do we still write about it? Just one piece, or small pieces that are in conversation over a period of time.

Anyway, what other questions can we come up with? Where do you think sx salon lands in the landscape of Caribbean studies or Caribbean literary studies publishing today? That’s one question. Another is the shape of Caribbean literary studies and how literary it is. That is, the subtitle of sx salon is “a Small Axe literary platform.” How much does the Caribbean allow you to stay with the literary? Because the West Indian Literature conference is coming here [to the University of Miami] imminently, I’ve been thinking about the shape of that conference and how much literature is in it. But then also how much anglophone literature is in it. I recognize one of my limitations is language. Do we start moving outside the disciplinary borders before we start moving outside the linguistic borders? This seems relevant to your own choices in terms of where you’ve taken sx salon, with various new editors.

RM: Well, of course, Danielle was Haitian and very in touch with Haitian and francophone Caribbean literature, and she brought those connections to sx salon. I’m excited that our new creative editor, Roque Raquel Salas Rivera, is from a different linguistic space (Puerto Rico) than my own and is also (like Danielle) a poet and a translator, someone who thinks very deeply and critically about the relationship of English to other Caribbean languages. I anticipate many fruitful conversations about how that might shape our editorial policy. But again, it’s a resource thing as well: practically speaking, how do you function across many languages, what are the resources you need to do that?

KBJ: I am optimistic that with your new editorial team you will figure it out. sx salon emerged from a tangle with the question of resources. We developed the platform in response to the limitations of space in the print journal. Although, I find that space is still an issue with digital publishing. Partially because of copy editing costs but partially because of attention span. 

RM: Right. There was one issue a while back where Mario Laarmann sent us a really lovely interview with Earl Lovelace, and it was enormously long. And I said to Mario, I really want to run this, but I can’t run it as one piece. At the time, I was up against two limitations. One, as you say, was attention span: there’s a way in which having one long internet page that you scroll and you scroll and you scroll is worse than having pages that you can flip. Reading a really long thing in physical pages—my brain finds that more manageable, maybe because that’s how my brain learned to read. So one thing was, I’m not going to ask our readers to read all that in one go, but the other thing was that I was expecting some other things for that issue. So I said, split it in two; send it to me as two pieces, and then we’ll run the first part this issue and the second next issue. Then some things fell through and I decided to run both parts in the same issue, but we did run them as two separate pieces: part 1 and part 2.¹⁰ And it was the attention span question; I feel like you’re doing your readers a solid if you give them a place to pause and return to.

KBJ: Yeah, and also, if you lose your place scrolling a long digital page, finding it can be super difficult. Whereas with paper, you’re like, alright, I’m right about here.

That’s something that I’ve been thinking about for a long time—the ways that we haven’t made the most of digital publishing. As we said earlier, part of that has to do with our mindsets being stuck in print, and part of it has to do with the resources to do so. For instance, what kind of investment do you have to make so that people can find their way in, can see the text differently? That would require it to be built differently, which takes resources—time and money.

RM: And just to say, some of these impulses or intentions can be in conflict with each other. The place where the technological and typological limitations of the platform become most constraining is usually in the creative section, in poetry. Because poets will have a vision for the physical appearance of their work on the page/screen, and you do your best to approximate that, but the limits . . .

KBJ: Yes! Poetry is usually the section that pushes against limits you didn’t even know were there.

RM: When I have conversations with our patient tech support guy, and I say, you know, a poet wants to do X, he does his best to try and make it happen, but there are occasionally moments when it just can’t. For example, one of the solutions used to be, I would lay it out and create a PDF and then just publish the PDF, because that way, the formatting that the poet wants is preserved. But the potential problem with that is accessibility. A PDF may not meet accessibility requirements for web publishing, which means you would be disregarding the access of a certain portion of your readership who are using screen readers. Or are reading in a different format: on their phone instead of a laptop. Or need to make the text bigger or smaller. So there are these moments where the aesthetic impulse collides with the ethical/technological reality, and how do you thread that needle? What side do you come down on?

But I want to come back to the language question. How you framed it was, Do we push outside our disciplinary boundaries before we push outside our linguistic boundaries? And—I don’t think I’m revealing any secrets, because anybody who scrolled back through the past twenty issues could see this happening—one thing that I have been not entirely consistent about is hewing strictly to the literary. So, if someone approaches me with something that I think is interesting but not strictly literary I will run it. 

What I tend to hew more closely to is Caribbean, right? I’ve had folks send me things that are more about the Black diaspora, and my response is, I need you to show me what the Caribbean’s central part in this is. I’m not a chauvinist about that, in my life and my work and my teaching. But I do feel like . . . there is a way in which the Caribbean gets caught up in other people’s projects and becomes a footnote, or a module on the syllabus, or a chapter in the dissertation. And that’s fine for other people, but we are not other people. This is our space, this is our tradition, this is our archive. And we get to say, Here, we center us. And so that I do hew to. 

But in terms of disciplinary boundaries, if you come to me with something about Frantz Fanon, I’m like—I read Fanon [laughs], we all read Fanon. I’m going to run your thing about Fanon because I feel like my audience is going to be interested in that. So I do think I . . . allow myself a lot of squishiness around the disciplinary boundaries.

KBJ: Do you think that that’s a thing about Caribbean studies? 

RM: Yes, I do think that’s something about Caribbean studies: interdisciplinarity as a method.

KBJ: But it should be a thing about Caribbean studies also that Frantz Fanon means French, not just psychoanalysis. It should be a thing that we also think about language when we think about him. Not just about discipline. From our conversation, it seems those are the two things that might be driving you as you move forward into the next fifty issues: What are the disciplinary boundaries sx salon wants to adhere to or push against, and what are the linguistic opportunities you want to—and can—explore?

RM: The next fifty issues! That sounds intimidating—and hopeful. And on the note of hope: my hope, my editorial vision is that sx salon should always be nimble enough to speak to contemporary Caribbean experiences and realities, should always keep up with the expressive needs (which I think is Sandra Pouchet Paquet’s phrase) of our region.

Thank you so much, Kelly, for joining me in this conversation.

Kelly Baker Josephs is a professor of English and the director of Africana studies at the University of Miami. She is the author of Disturbers of the Peace: Representations of Insanity in Anglophone Caribbean Literature (University of Virginia Press, 2013) and a coeditor, with Roopika Risam, of The Digital Black Atlantic (University of Minnesota Press, 2021). She is the editor of Manchineel + Seagrape, which publishes open-access digital editions of Caribbean plays.

Rachel L. Mordecai is a professor of English at the University of Massachusetts Amherst and the editor of sx salon. Her teaching and research interests are primarily in the field of Caribbean literature and culture. She is the author of Citizenship Under Pressure: The 1970s in Jamaican Literature and Culture (University of the West Indies Press, 2014); her monograph in progress is on Caribbean family sagas.

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[1] Kelly Baker Josephs, “Handling with Care: On Editing, Invisibility, and Affective Labor,” Small Axe, no. 50 (July 2016): 98–105, https://doi.org/10.1215/07990537-3626824. 

[2] See Caribbean Commons, https://caribbean.commons.gc.cuny.edu/; see also Kelly Baker Josephs, “Articulating Caribbean Epistemologies.” Small Axe, no. 43 (March 2014): 99–102.

[3] David Scott, “Preface: Facing the Literary,” Small Axe, no. 32 (July 2010): vii–viii, https://doi.org/10.1215/07990537-2010-001. 

[4] Kelly Baker Josephs, introduction to sx salon 1, October 2010, https://smallaxe.net/sxsalon/issues/sx-salon-1.

[5] “Caribbean Texts and Textiles,” sx salon 36, February 2021, https://smallaxe.net/sxsalon/issues/sx-salon-36. 

[6] “La terre renversée: New Perspectives on Francophone Caribbean Literature,” sx salon 44, October 2023: https://smallaxe.net/sxsalon/issues/sx-salon-44. 

[7] Digital Library of the Caribbean, https://dloc.com/. 

[8] Manchineel + Seagrape, https://journals.flvc.org/MS. 

[9] Sylvia Wynter, “Beyond Miranda’s Meanings: Un/silencing the ‘Demonic Ground’ of Caliban’s ‘Woman,’” afterword to Carole Boyce Davies and Elaine Savory Fido, eds., Out of the Kumbla: Caribbean Women and Literature (Africa World, 1990), 355–72.

[10] See Mario Laarmann’s two-part interview with Earl Lovelace in sx salon 45, February 2024, https://smallaxe.net/sxsalon/issues/sx-salon-45.