Written 25-12-23 by Freya Solnordal

It is 6am on Christmas Day, and it hurts to breathe. 

I think of 7-year-old me exactly 15 years ago, awake not from pain, but anticipation. 

I think of the children of today, whose lungs are being corrupted by smoke and smog and plague. 

I think of the adults who attempt to conjure up that childhood Christmas magic and wear it as a veil, as if simple cloth has ever worked to protect us. 

I think of how we would rather wear a myth than a mask. 

It is 6am on Christmas Day, and it hurts to breathe.