Dear people of Tuz Khurmato, Sadr City and Kirkuk in Iraq, dear people of Mai Zai in Afghanistan, dear people of Mingora and Datta Khel in Pakistan, we know that you also lost loved ones to bombs on April 15th. We share your sorrow.
No more hurting people.
Love, BOSTON

اهالي مدينة الصدر،اهالي كركوك الأعزاء ،اهالي ماي زاي في افغانستان الأعزاء ،اهالي منغورة و داتا خيل في باكستان الأعزاء ...نحن نعلم أنكم أيضاً فقدتم أحباب لكم في الانفجارات التي حدثت في ١٥ من ابريل. نحن نتقاسم و إياكم أحزانكم و نشد علا أيديكم !
لا لتعذيب الناس بعد الان.
مع كل الحب من بوسطن، امريكا .

TRIGGER WARNING: Short description of sexual violence in war. [In italics in paragraph four.]

December, 1970.  My father joins a delegation of radical scientists from the World Federation of Scientific Workers and travels to Hanoi. There they meet with scientists, students, government officials and others.  My father lectures on evolution in the underground classrooms of the University of Hanoi, because his hosts say they want to prepare for victory, to ask questions that can't be answered with guns. Under sewer covers there are bomb shelters stocked with all the essentials: water, food, first aid kits and fresh flowers to keep up people's spirits. 

Trigger Warnings: global warming, child sexual trafficking, famine, witch trials.

A few months ago the European Space Agency announced that satellite images show arctic ice disappearing at a rate 50% faster than predicted, which could mean that it will have vanished completely by 2022, nine years from now.  Not only would that lose us the cooling air currents that stream across the northern hemisphere, but also that immense white reflector that has been sending the sun's rays back into space.  

As a survivor of extreme early abuse, I was programed for suicide, told to kill myself rather than reveal what was done to me.  It's like a kind of toxic, elevator music background noise: you should kill yourself now, you should kill yourself now.  I've never obeyed, and never will, but I hear it.  One night, as I was drifting to sleep, that strangely calm and impersonal instruction drifted once again across my psyche and at the edge of sleep, my response was, No, I'm going to fight for my planet.