First day of the year.
No archive. No museum of half-right thoughts.
I cleared the walls because ideas aren’t medals. They’re tools.
When they’re bent, you don’t polish them — you melt them down.
We already know what’s at stake.
Life itself is on the line, not metaphorically, not someday.
And we already know what blocks us:
self-interest dressed up as realism,
division sold as identity.
This year has to be louder. Not noisier — clearer.
Demanding action, yes, but also embodying it.
Cut what emissions we can. Own our footprint without pretending it’s enough on its own.
And refuse the ancient distractions: race, religion, sexuality —
the recycled bullshit that turns neighbours into enemies
while the house burns.
Negation is the common thread.
Climate inaction negates the living world —
and we are not separate from it.
Hatred negates humanity, one person at a time.
A nod, a smile, an unremarkable kindness
is a small act of resistance.
It says: you exist, and so do I, and that matters.
I should already be on the road, bike loaded, days unfolding by pedal stroke.
But life interrupts. It always does.
Departure gets delayed, not cancelled.
In a few days I’ll roll out anyway.
The direction hasn’t changed.
No trophies. No certainty.
Just movement.
Just choosing, again, to stand where it counts.
