So, I am reading Blessed Unrest, eager to be made hopeful. Also, I have excavated the unread October edition of The Walrus from beneath the teetering pile on my bedside table.
“The Fix for Planet Earth,” it reads. “How human ingenuity will save the day.” Well, that seems serendipitous. I flip it open and begin reading the Editor’s Note.
Yikes! The world’s oxygen is disappearing, the oceans are awash in garbage, people are dropping like flies from air pollution, animals are keeling into extinction at this very moment, and the Great Barrier Reef is dying. (All this, in paragraphs two and three.)
Seriously, that’s what it says. And now I’m supposed to flip to the feature article to discover that there’s hope?
I’m paralyzed by panic! I can’t even turn the page!