Embedded in there, there was this.
And in that silence that was mentioned, the breaking of my heart was quite audible. Loud. Sharp.
Dear GOD, people. Dear GOD. It looks as bad now as anything has ever looked before and *it isn't over yet*. I am in turns frightened and furious. We will not rest until we break this planet, this lovely fragile world which we have been given stewardship over, and scatter the ashes into the great cosmic indifference.
The BP CEO famously said, "I want my life back". Poor baby. He means he wants back the life of moneyed ease and no responsibilities, the kind where he kicks back on a tropical beach with a cocktail with a bright paper umbrella and gets a nice tan. Well, Sir CEO, here's the thing. YOU DON'T GET THAT. Not ever again, if there is any justice in the world. Don't utter the word "leak" ever again, this is no leak, and if you don't understand that I'll send you a dictionary for Christmas. If there was any justice you'd be down there doing donkey scut work on the dead shore, saving what you can. At the very least you should be forced to take your sunset cocktails on the fouled beaches of the Gulf, with the sight and the stink and the muffled sound of oiled water hitting shore the only thing that you are allowed to pay attention to. You should hand over every cent of your own personal fortune for the cleanup.
You should, in short, climb down from the rarefied heights and become once again a regular human being (if that is possible any longer). THIS IS YOUR WORLD TOO. It was broken on YOUR watch. Because the company at whose helm you so proudly stand was too cheap to have contingency plans in place.
We broke the ocean. We are breaking the land that surrounds it. There is nothing here but death and silence.
And my heart is still breaking.