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Beneath the mud and the mess, our humble Mother screams.
‘What you do makes a difference,’ said Jane Goodall, ‘and you have to decide what kind of difference you want to make.’ As a consequence of human intervention, our home is now sick and suffering. We’ve turned our back on the breast that best knows how to feed us, shunning the slow speed of nature and renouncing our place in community. But time, it seems, can be the catalyst for change, and so in an attempt to course-correct our current catastrophe, we dedicate this issue to our all-enduring Mother and our collective responsibility. To the places where the grass has stopped growing, where the soil and the sea are sometimes suffocating and the sky is struggling to smile: we’re here, we’re trying, we promise.
To the peacekeepers and pollinators and the heavenly hellraisers. The changemakers and whistleblowers and zero-waste warriors. To the earthlings and wild ones who know we can do better. To using art as a notion of hope, and to the fearless acknowledgment that we’re always stronger together. To the respectful resuscitation of resources, and to our inherent, all-consuming love for this big blue planet.
To our home, our heart, in love and unity.