The Emerald Ash Borer, an invasive jewel beetle that feeds on ash trees, accidentally crosses the ocean buried in a pile of lumber, arriving first in Michigan, then to Ohio, Minnesota, and Ontario, traveling down the plains of Kentucky. 100 million ash trees die as a result. The communities of people around these now deforested areas begin to experience higher instances of cardiovascular and lower respiratory illness, resulting in an unusual spike of heart related deaths.
Across the country to the coast of California, a supercolony of a trillion Linepithema humile ants has been waging an all out war against three other colonies for a century now, with millions of them dying along a front that spans several kilometers around the city of San Diego. They march, like the first line of defense in a violent and uncanny interspecies battle.
A parasite rewires the brain chemistry of a rodent to move closer to a cat in order to survive while the sun rises through our window panes, giving us the energy we need to just keep going.
A human’s cell count is considered to be only half-human, and swans are said to sing just before dying.
The world, natural or not, is a phenomenon of the living and non-living, of people, of ants, of angels and sidewalks, stitched together by gossamer. A thin, delicate substance of interconnectivity. Countless spider-spun threads, tying all of our lungs together so that when we breathe, so does a termite mound, and an ash tree, and a wall covered with lead paint. The dancing of all these parts form a sacred whole.