Brightlines and Fine Lines

We’ve reached that time of the year in the Puget Sound when pale sunlight becomes shrouded by indecisive clouds that oscillate between sheer silver and dark gray, when we wake up to a familiar pitter patter rhythm—a reminder that we only have two seasons: three months of lemon sunshine and nine months of minty rain. On my daily evening walks, dim streetlights struggle to break through the rigid darkness. The past few days, I have been trying to loosen my hold on the illusion of summer. (However, this week is supposed to be sunny and/or partly cloudy. Sixty-degree weather won’t stop me from pretending fall has yet to come.)

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Complicity in Climate Change

I was among one of the thousands of students who skipped school a few Fridays ago to attend the Youth Climate Strike. While I learned a lot from the inspiring speakers and micropolitical organizations, ironically I took away the most from what failed to happen.

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