They say where there’s smoke, there’s fire. But what happens when there’s too much fire? As I looked out my window at the haze engulfing my beloved city, I couldn’t help but wonder: If one little spark could burn more than nine million acres of land in Canada, then why couldn’t my new flame even bother to call me back? In an era when smoke could travel across continents, why wasn’t my new boyfriend willing to take a cab from SoHo to the Upper East Side?
After clearing my throat, I knew it was time to clear the air. Here I was, single and swallowing more smog than Samantha on a Saturday night. I started thinking about communication and how maybe this was Earth’s way of telling us something. Maybe we all needed to see our relationship with the planet the way we might a romantic partner. We were, after all, bound to its surface.