To the gods of the world, from one of the unnamed, a letter:
Honoured Sirs,
Something has happened. Hard to say what. My mind, my small mind, registers certain events. A hard thing came down on a beetle. A frog shrivelled in the dust. The air became more difficult to breathe, my body felt heavier, my wings stiffened: who knows? Did this happen overnight, or has it been going that way for years? All I can say for sure is that life is much harder than it was. The sun looks angry, the old trees have ceased to talk. Flying about my daily business I notice a shortage of the brilliant foods on which I used to feast; at the same time there are heavy rains and many wildfires. I have a sense of calamity. I am light and humble. I do not feel strong any longer. Yesterday I crawled into a hole in the ground and I am not sure whether it is safe to come out. There was once music in the undergrowth, but now only the occasional creaking noises. Where is everyone? I think things may be coming to an end. Please tell me, is it a delusion? If it is not a delusion, please tell me the truth. Without the truth there is no hope for anyone. I am frightened here. Do you exist any longer? Is anyone listening?
Christopher Nicholson