Somewhere 35,000 feet over Kazakhstan en route to Heathrow from Incheon, I was pausing Tomorrowland every few seconds so that I could get the quotation accurately. No doubt irritated, the man beside took the liberty to read what I was copying. “Spot on,” he spat out, “Spot on.” Perhaps, but we were both on a very long flight and in no position to align with the third person accusatory or to muse about how “they” sprinted anywhere. He was obviously excited, moved perhaps to consider doing something different in his life—perhaps not fly anymore, though I doubted it, since even ecocritics like me don’t seem to hesitate flying anywhere anytime if someone else is footing the bill. Doing things is easier...

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