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Argenti
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There is no more magic in the world. We have killed it, tamed it, domesticated it. By bending the wonders of the world to our will, subverting the give and take that once defined us... we lost something from within ourselves. Something important.
Everything is black and white. It must be understood, dissected, then used, abused, depleted and tossed aside. We can not stand something existence for the sake of itself. It's an abomination to us.
We long for magic in our tiny mundane lives, we are so desperate for magic we hunt it, then laugh as we strangle the light from its eyes.
We are violent in our mundanity. Everything we do represents a breaking of everything we should be doing.
But what's broken is broken, and some things can not be mended.
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There is more magic in the world. It’s in the space between a butterfly’s breaths, the sound of a dewdrop falling, the smell of mountains in the rain. The sight of fog over a lake that makes one feel as if they’ve reached the end of the earth.
Not everything. Not all. Not completely.
Parts are lost; pieces have been destroyed
but not all. never all. Not until “the last tree has fallen and the rivers are poisoned”.
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Heyyyy, do what you can. It’s sucky, I know. But I use fabric tea bags and a bamboo cutting board, and we grow a lot of our own food. We make tinctures and take herbal supplements. We forage elderberries and yarrow in the mountains.
i hate the idea that my lifestyle is so rare, and is being hunted and destroyed. But it’s not over yet. Don’t give up on the good parts just cuz there’s so much bad.
Spoilerlol sorry for the toxic positivity im tryna lock in on being happy
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