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  • Dear World,

    I am dreaming of the ocean. I am thinking of the deep, deep sea and the revivification and the salt, the air. Everything I love is connected to and by this vast shining blue- the tide and the moon, the moon and the stars, the stars and all that is on this beautiful planet. But it is this very thing that is so distressing me, for all is not well. I am worried about you, World. It is not your fault- but I am worried nonetheless that you won't make it. You, World, have been badly mistreated. You were given as a gift- and experiment? an accident?- and we reveled in your glory for many years, but in time our affection waned. We began to take your magnificence, the miracle of you, for granted, and so began to neglect your caretaking. This is the story of all things, no? We became less meticulous, less loving, as we acclimated to your presence- we assumed you'd be given to us forever, on permanent lend from your celestial sisters. It is not that we didn't care- understand this- merely that we were (are), as our species is wont to be, très foolish.

    And so you became ill. You continued as such for many many years and yet still gave us the most brilliant of gifts- the Aurora, democratic nations, scientific reasoning, Renaissance art. But you also gave us signs. You tried to warn us that you were ailing and needed help, but we could not- would not- listen. Your condition deteriorated and our denial skills improved. Not wanting to see the truth and the responsibility it would entail, we obscured from ourselves and our contemporaries what we knew was occurring- the acceleration of the weakening of our beloved home. We hung a silver silk scarf on your from and we pretended that all was well. All was not well. All is not well.

    For too long have we shied away from our collective responsibility. Blame may well exist to be apportioned, but that time is gone. It is too late for that, too urgent. World, we mean well, and we know that the time is now to leave behind our misgivings and our excuses and our politics.

    I am worried, World. I am worried about Midwestern cities where it is consistently 60 degrees Fahrenheit late in December, and I implore upon all of my fellows to join in our collective mission and take collective responsibility for the repairing of our collective home.

    With utmost respect and gratitude,

    Devora Lion-Sky
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