Sequoia Nagamatsu

cluster of disheveled scientists, most of them in flannel or fleece, felt like a repeat of Clara’s memorial a month ago, a church filled with her friends and coworkers, most of whom we’d never met before.

The kilometer-long Batagaika Crater had been widening with temperature rise like some god had unzipped the snow-topped marshlands, exposing woolly rhinos and other extinct beasts.

Welcome to the end of the world,”

Cliff Miyashiro from UCLA—archaeology

She held the purple crystal pendant she’d had when we adopted her.

reintroducing bison and native flora to the land.

And maybe it was my imagination, but I could have sworn I heard the soil churning, the dance of a million dead insects, early humans, and wolves.

The picture was taken three years ago, when we’d met up with Clara in southern Alaska.

After school she’d study the news, comb the internet for disasters, wars and hate and injustice, write it all down in these color-coded journals.

until another ice shelf collapsed or another animal went extinct.