how things hold together

A common criticism of hope is that it’s passive; that people just wait around for things to magically change. It’s a valid critique. And it’s exactly why I love this approach.

This isn’t about sitting back and hoping things will feel better. It’s about doing something . It’s about choosing to participate. Making a connection. Allowing yourself to be

behind every algorithm, every interface, every design decision lie imaginaries—those collective representations that shape our visions of what is possible and desirable

By better understanding these imaginaries, we empower ourselves to shape them according to our personal and collective preferences. Instead of letting the visions of laboratories and tech companies determine the future of AI, we can actively participate in building imaginaries that will guide its development.

The world I once could mirror myself in, find comfort in, and lean my future against no longer feels like home. It is not just the news, or the reports about the climate, the economy, or politics. It is something deeper - a sense that the very foundation has cracked. That the shared agreements holding reality together no longer apply.

When societies decay, this is where it begins: in relationships. Trust erodes, language hardens, resonance fades. Civilisations do not first show signs of collapse in their economies or political systems, but in their capacity for empathy. When we no longer feel with each other, when we stop listening, when dialogue turns into posturing - then the

For centuries, we have built a culture around the autonomous human being - the one who can manage alone, who needs no one, who is whole in themselves. We have celebrated individuality as freedom, independence as strength, and self-sufficiency as maturity. But that is a lie - or at least a crude simplification. We have overvalued the individual and

We are not separate entities. We are parts of larger, often invisible constellations. We do not exist in a vacuum - we take shape through the relationships we inhabit. Where we place ourselves and how we relate determines who we become, in that moment.

as long as we build our groups like machines - with interchangeable parts, standardised processes, and measurable outcomes - we will continue to feel lonely, even among people who understand us.

We have built our lives like grids, not like trees. We wear our roles like uniforms - not as chosen expressions, but as inherited ones. And when we try to