This here is the last letter between Jo and her dear Imaginary Friend Titus. This correspondence has been ongoing throughout the cold season and has been an immense joy for me to envision this world we built together with . You can find the previous letters here: 1, 2, 3, 4.
Listen to your Land has been evolving lately and getting more attention as a legitimate approach to understanding a site before you bring out the digger. An actual Listen to your Land workshop might come to light! So if you are at the stage where that piece of land is waiting to talk to you, please reply to this email and let me know about it. This would help me co-create this with you and develop a structure that is helpful and fun.
Titus,
Last night, I sat alone, lost in thought by flickering flames. The winter, harsh and dry as never before, had left the cattle water un-replenished. In my mind's eye, I saw the stars and the vast expanse above, and I thought of the story the elders told you about Kessler, the wise scientist.
This morning, I found something peculiar that left me unsettled. Walking the empty streets of the stone-clad village, I saw something gleaming in the sun on the fig tree hill. I went up to the fig tree, as we used to so many moons ago. It was a fragment of space debris, just like the wreckage in your world.
Kessler predicted in 1978 that our lower atmosphere would one day be littered with space debris. I never thought much of it until now.
The crumbling web of satellites, the debris falling from the sky.
It's happening in both our worlds.
This is becoming dangerous, Titus. While the elders and the big city are busy fighting over the remainder of the winter crops, our talks might remain undiscovered. But traveling…
Yet we must meet Titus. I will make the longest journey, for my absence is not as alarming as yours. By the rock above the creek meet me next full moon. We need to find a way to stop the debris from falling, to protect Gaia.
Kessler was right, and we're paying the price for our arrogance. Our world is colliding with itself, and we must act before it's too late.
Until then, stay safe.
Love, Jo