Day 3

The birds woke me this morning, sunlight streaming in through open windows.

“Open windows”. I write as if they can be closed. Here, they are either rotted shut, or the glass was removed to let the air in.

It’s been a decade since anyone had the energy to beat back the outside world as it crept inside. Now, there is almost no difference between the two.

I sometimes wonder if we could have survived. If, instead of killing those the wealthy viewed as less we could have learnt from them. Learnt how to survive off the land. Maybe we would have had a chance.

Instead, we destroyed them, desperate to fill our own bellies.

I used to read the books in the library, before. Before they rotted and became home to fungi and mildew. One of them said “give a man a fish, feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, feed him for a life.”

I’d ask what happens if you steal a man’s fish and leave him for dead, but I know the answer. You eat the fish only to realise there is no one left to fish for you, and no one to teach you how to fish for yourself.

We lost so many that way.

We learnt. Learnt how to recognise edible plants, how to slaughter our own meat. But it was still polluted, and people died in the learning.

Things aren’t so polluted now. Lichens are an indicator species. I used to read everything I could about them. When I was younger, most of the lichens I saw were the bright, crusty yellow of golden shield. Too much nitrogen in the air for much else to survive. Now, I walk around and see the frills of old man’s beard and oakmoss. And dozens, hundreds, of others that never received common names. Species I have no chance of identifying based on memories of books read years ago.

If my daughter had been born now, instead of 40, 50 years ago, perhaps she would have lived.

If… perhaps… that’s all that’s left, isn’t it?

If this, perhaps that.

If…

If…

If…

Perhaps.