It is being spoken and preached in abundance, with grief and worries occupying the commotion. It is a narrative of disruption; a weary message told through veering winds, harsh rising seas and drastically alternating landscapes. A message of massive change that intensely adjusts the fragile balance of my natural, interconnected and versatile habitant. I am on the verge of despair and deep concern.

​

I am not only part of the scenery but also the most vital mix of components and multiple identities that make up our only home. The magnitude of how it has become disarray mixed with wicked problems is profoundly laborious to measure. This telling echoes in the muffled weeping of premature blossom that previously harmonised with the seasonal melody. Now it is challenged and faced by erratic patterns accompanied by the accelerating warming as the feverish symptom of uncontainable careless acts on my delicate health.  My withering lungs of assuring trees, ancient and new, struggle to sustain life. I am transformed into witnesses and victims, watching helplessly as fire and looting diminish my presence and simultaneously minimising the diverse ensemble of biodiversity that is part of me.