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My instinctual response toward climate change, as with all impositions upon my melon, is one of vengeful rapid degrowth by way of violent deconstruction, though I'm perennially confronted with merely satisfying myself as a lonesome flower in the field.

I do harbour a longing desire to nurture and build and interact, however it is a lamentable time for me as I have recently become persona non grata to an intentional group of individuals who were the closest thing to a thriving bunch of anarchos I could hope to find in these parts.

Still, I remember enough of power cuts and the kindness of strangers to know optimism. Though as I've witnessed in the city I witness here in the sticks, melancholy, there are too many battles lost behind the eyes. Ghosts and worm heads and tentacles, Oh my.

Internationally, as locally, I have no investment beyond the sharing of a story, with perhaps the connections staying open long enough for some of us to see the idea grab a hold...