I feel ashamed of how parochial my reaction to this is. Will my state be okay? My corner of the country? I’ll still be in the green zone, maybe, but how long will my parents?

It’s like your brain scrabbles for purchase against the brutality of the facts. I can’t stop the train and I can’t decide if it’s worse to know where it’s going.

Will the species I grew up around all die? There’s a cruelty in daydreaming of stealing north with pygmy rabbits and beloved irises when there will be so many people suffering, so many suffering now.