Nimbus, generally chilling: yeah, I have a lot of pressure since the Vex attacked the grave sites, the Shadow Cabal keep pouring out of the pyramid, and the council think I'm pushing the work on an outsider, but at least I have a cool buddy like you!
Guardian, looking up and seeing Nimbus holding back tears: I'm going to hug you.
Nimbus, confused: Huh? Why?
Guardian, using strand to suspend themselves: You just look like you need it.
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You don't need to believe that people as a whole are good or well-intentioned to be an optimist about fixing climate change.
A lot of the time, it's enough to trust in this: people hate being screwed over. And even more than that, they hate feeling screwed over.
Climate change is actively screwing over almost every single person on this planet, whether they know it or not. We just need to keep making sure that people do know that they're getting screwed over, along with all their loved ones, and who's doing it.
Spite and righteous anger will honestly do a lot of the rest.
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Grief and disappointment give rise to anger, anger to envy, envy to malice, and malice to grief again, till the whole circle be completed.
David Hume, A Treatise of Human Nature
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I stumbled across a man talking about having survived the 2004 Boxing Day Tsunami when he was a small boy, and he mentioned in passing an entire village that had been swept away - that a foreign government rebuilt the buildings, but that the village has remained empty, as people fear unsettled spirits of the dead are still there.
I don't blame them. I think I wouldn't be able to move in to one of those buildings either, for the same reason.
There are still emptied-out towns in Japan since the Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami in 2011. Even when people are told they can go back to rebuilt homes, few do. Retaking the towns happens slowly, uneasily. People live alongside a wrenching tear in the universe where their loved ones should be, surrounded by spaces where half-second glimpses of those long gone can happen at any time. With every breath, every blink.
I keep thinking about buildings as grave markers, empty rooms with ghosts living within them but no breath ever moving the air. Vines and leaves winding up walls and flowers blooming on pathways where there should have been footsteps. The sounds of birds singing in buildings that once held a crush and chatter of crowds.
Buildings as cairns, as tombs without bodies.
Buildings as empty memorials to a life that abruptly ended even for the survivors of the day itself. What was rebuilt was something else entirely. Can you live inside a wooden ghost? Can you sleep in a bed within its lungs? Can you wake up each morning and look up at bones?
Buildings as places where a teacup left on a saucer for twenty years seems still like it might suddenly rise to cool lips. Buildings where chairs line up before an arcade, dust-covered and decrepit but still brightly-colored, ready to welcome in players who are never coming. Buildings with the eyes of people. Buildings that watch, and wait, for the living to come and remember the dead.
Buildings as places where your fingers are always just brushing those of someone who should still be here. The weight of their presence in those empty rooms. The way you can almost hear their voice calling for you from just out of sight.
Buildings as memories of a future that didn't happen.
Buildings as reminders of a universe where this loss hadn't happened yet, where this confluence of horrifying moments hadn't yet come together. Buildings as grave markers, as memorials, as defiance against nature that indifferently destroyed us and never took notice of the loss. Buildings as our insistence on remembering that there was a loss, and that grief lives and breathes even if those we lost no longer do.
Buildings as our cries that you should still be here.
Buildings as thousands of voices whispering back, I am here. I will always be here. And so will a part of you.
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Not to defend Lu Guang's hypocrisy, but.
Can you imagine losing your best friend and deciding not to save them, knowing that you have the power to? And not only making this decision once, but day after day for the rest of your life? Being aware that you could go back at any given moment, and still persistently choosing not to? Can you imagine ever moving on? Living with yourself? Going about your day with the knowledge that not only did you let them die, but you're also continuing to let them die at all times by not doing anything? Can you imagine not going insane?
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