I’m writing to you from a wild and beautiful Sligo. The rain woke me at three am battering the van, the winds shaking us so much I was convinced we would end up in the Atlantic. I’ve been thinking so much about weather; about the impacts the loss of defined seasons has and will continue to have as we hurtle further into Climate emergency. What we experience when things— seasons, places— are changed so fully as to no longer be recognisable. It’s felt, for many weeks, like autumn instead of summer. The rain has been incessant and to experience this as other parts of Europe have burned has been so tricky to navigate. I spoke on my Writing through Emergency course this week about how disempowering I find fear to be; the ways that taking action is the only way that allows me to still feel the hope I need. I’ve been thinking, too, about story. How we’ve always made meaning of this world and our place within through art; through image and word. I’ve found myself drawn back to a few incredible books these last weeks, ones that share as a central theme the idea of women taking space and making maps. Standing strong and speaking truth.
I have felt keenly and sorely the loss of Sinéad O’Connor; one of the most important, beautiful, honest truth speakers any of us will ever know.
‘My apple tree, my brightness’ …
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