The city was flooded in a poisonous orange sunset and smog, as we drove through its skyline.
It made me think of Bladerunner. I dont know what Jr thought, but I know he was in unsettled awe.
.
Warm bulbs light up our conversations on the cozy roof deck of the beach front apartment.
Jr’s cold and hostile numbers, about what tragedies await us, hang in the air like orange smog.
When I told the therapist, I desperately hoped would work out, that I struggled with eco anxiety, she asked me to elaborate.
So I told the her, that I couldn’t stop thinking about climate change, and that that years exceptionally hot summer was a constant reminder that things where getting worse. When that very first session was over she gave me an assignment. To tackle the anxiety about the globe heating up, I should look into getting an air conditioning unit.
That therapist didn’t work out.
Writing Things Better 