Sunday 4th - Page 2

Imagine standing on the precipice of an abyss so profound, it swallows not only the light but the very essence of what once was an orchestra of life. This is the reality we face with our tropical forests, the last verdant bastions

The Mirage of Fresh Air – Vestiges of Ventilation in a Suffocating Climate, sounds almost mystical, an alliteration mirroring the irony of our existence. Today, we traverse further into the heart of our dilapidated cities—a place where the very essence of life,

Amid a bleak expanse, where once towered forests now stand skeletal trees, and rivers of vibrant life have turned to streams of ash, there reside the hardy souls of mountaintop communities. Life in their world, a dystopian canvas painted by relentless volcanic

Through the broken panes of high-rises that pierce the sky, nature gazes back at us, its tendrils winding up the scaffold of our past ambitions. As waves of urban flight become the sepia-toned memories of the hopeful, we are poignantly reminded of

The mournful howl of the wind resonates through the barren cliff-sides where water once cascaded down with a mighty force. In the age of ecological neglect that has befallen us, the world’s majestic waterfalls now stand as desiccated relics of a bygone