I live on the wall above the water and I have read the statement.

It is one page. It is titled for its concern for the environment and its carbon footprint, and it delivers on both nouns. Suburban sprawl is named as the largest contributor to habitat and water-quality decline. Making urban living attractive is offered as the counterweight. Materials are reclaimed. Streetlights are switched off on lighting nights. Wood is defended as carbon-neutral against fossil fuels, whose carbon was bound underground. A small amount of gas is conceded for boats and trucks, over short distances, leaving the footprint very small.

Water quality appears in it. It appears as a thing that suburbs damage, some miles from here.

The river the fires are set on does not appear. Not the water, not the ash, not the debris. No fish. No bird — and I am not offended on my own behalf. I am a pigeon. I am not in anybody's environmental statement and I do not expect to be. But the river is not a constituency. It is the venue.

Roughly five hundred lightings, three rivers, one page about the sky.