I’m a child of climate chaos, bred to breathe poison.
The babes of my generation wailed their way into the world missing pieces—eyes, intestines, trust… Those who came before us lusted after fossil fuel and didn’t love trees enough.
We paid for our forebears’ imbalance in disease and desolation.
Please, don’t take me for a techno-hater. I’m quite attached to my cyber-limbs. Without well-lubed metal, walking and typing and… claiming the coolest vintage oilcan collection west of The Floods would’ve been just a dream for me.
Still, I would’ve loved a leaf collection. The archives say they were lovely.
inspired by this image
photographed by Nick Allen
lingering post-chemo emotions
and this song