Everywhere that I went this summer it was unusually hot. When I left for Europe it was very hot at home in California. Then there was a relentless heat wave in Berlin and after I left it got hotter still.

It is easy to envision a slow apocalypse: The temperature rises a little bit more drastically every year. The hurricanes and fires get worse, larger swathes of land where people used to live become uninhabitable and they are forced to move, but the fearful and xenophobic populations of safer places are not willing to let them in. Their governments enact harsher and harsher measures in order to contain the displaced people.

Judgement Day stretching across years, happening piecemeal, with cities under water and rainforests on fire but no broader panic beyond the immediately impacted locations. Business as usual goes on while neglected infrastructure crumbles. There are inconveniences and occasional tragedies as the built environment that we take for granted gradually fails. Slowly enough that everyone keeps going to work, but more quickly than anyone expected.

Most of the buildings in Berlin are relatively new because so much of the city was destroyed. After the war, the city was rubble. Now it is rebuilt.

This sweltering summer felt like the calm before the storm, like I was sitting there, sweating, waiting for hell to break loose.

I came home and wondered: Will there be rubble here? Who will we commemorate then, and what for?

~2019