In July, I travelled to the German Alps to witness a 2,000-year-old ritual. The dancers wore costumes made from beard lichens that grow on trees. Or rather, that used to grow on trees. Due to air pollution and climate change, for the first time, they had to travel hundreds of kilometres further into the mountains to find these lichens.

I brought a small piece back with me. Like a relic of something that, until recently, was still an unquestioned part of the landscape.

Shortly afterwards, a devastating wildfire broke out in the High Fens. Relentless.

The grief and sense of estrangement I feel resonate with what I recognise in many people around me. Perhaps this touches on what I would call ecostalgia: grief for a changing living world, born of love and connection.

It helps to see and know that nature is resilient. Yet not everything can be restored. Climate change and biodiversity loss are part of our daily reality.

That is why I grieve. Out of love and respect for what is disappearing, for what is being lost. Because we are all interconnected, across all forms of life. Because every life lost deserves a moment of our attention.