Almost nothing flows from children quite like their torrents of questions. “Why, what, where”
and “who” dominate their vocabulary and for good reason. Yet as soon as folk exit the
education system their enquiries stop. Acquiring and achieving that elusive animal – the “career”
– means we feel pressured to sustain the airs and graces of omniscience or, worse, leave us too
exhausted to pursue knowledge outside the office.

Instead of asking the deeper questions we fall into the easy habit of obtaining information.
Gathering newspapers, weekly magazines, twitter feeds and so on, we drown in an excess of
signification. Encircled by myriad signposts, it’s easy to forget origins or destinations. This
confusion is concealed by the cognoscenti who revel in the discussion of “talking points” that
periodicals proffer with the “latest” titbits on any controversy. Polite society may discuss
Kashmir, Catalonia and other conflict zones but it only does so in a shallow, myopic manner; its
participants recycling opinions they might not believe in had they scrutinised the matter further.

Enter Fracture, which acknowledges the world is splintered on every level but that division is not an evil per se but rather – to quote Leonard Cohen – “how the light gets in.” The magazine is childish and immature in that most profound of ways in that it seeks to keep wonder alive and ask the questions many appear too afraid to ask. To give a few examples from our first issue: Why does Portugal exist? Why do people claim the wine of the ancient Greeks tasted so good? And why are all the wealthy people trussed up in leisurewear? In short, we seek to hold the torch of eros aloft and insist on asking the annoying questions that get to the unique genesis of every subject.