Imagine you are standing on a bridge stretching into the distance before you. You can turn around and see it fade into the horizon, but you can only walk the other way. Imagine sections of the bridge begin to disappear, the only way through disintegrating, the tightrope fraying behind and ahead of you. Christopher Williams' RADIO is the story of three women, strangers with a vital bond that is in danger of crumbling. The image of a radio signal leaving the antenna to travel relentlessly onward abuts that of a cicada, seventeen years underground only to burst into sunlight, sing, love, and then die in a matter of weeks. The beautifully rendered narrative is by turns tender and devastating, conjuring a gauzy atmosphere over pages and then in one image jarring the reader out of reverie as it grapples with the prospect that a life can be altered, that the bridge can be rearranged and remain passable. RADIO highlights Williams' talent as an artist able to create motion, joy, fear, and anxiety even in a monochromatic world, filled with beautiful nods to mid-century design and liminal fantastical landscapes. The art and text perfectly evoke the jaw-clenched stasis of 2020, yet manage to offer hope in the simple fact that walking forward is still our only move.