The letter arrived on a Thursday. I opened it at my desk, the window behind me cracked an inch, the smell of damp bark, cold air and something green from Storeton Woods drifting into my room. Beyond the treeline, the fields rolled towards the Mersey, Liverpool sat hazed on the far bank, its cranes and cathedrals half-swallowed by distance. It did not look like a city from here. It looked like a creation that had emerged out of the land beside the water. The letter was a notice of admission from Hong Kong – I was in.
I packed my bags and flew carelessly – Manchester to Hong Kong – 3 tonnes of CO2. Who cares?
Hong Kong was extraordinary and relentless. I went to Bangkok for a weekend, then Tokyo because the flights were cheap and the semester felt endless – it would be wasteful not to. I took taxis in a city built for trains. I left the air conditioning running when I left the flat. I ate, consumed and moved frictionlessly; consequences are only theoretical, something you only see online. My home, on the other hand, is safe and far away
At the end of the year, I flew home. I took a taxi from the airport to Liverpool, and then a bus from Liverpool to my home. I watched the city thin out, the buildings drop and the roads narrow, as I approached home. I turned the corner onto my street and looked up at the house.
The window was the same. The desk was the same. But the trees were gone. The woods that had pressed against my garden since before I could remember, the smell that had once crept through my window – absent. The fields between me and the Mersey, the green that had softened the greyness of Liverpool – flattened. The view I had taken for granted, the horizon I had always assumed would be there when I returned – erased.
This was not a coincidence. The carelessness had added up. Somewhere between unnecessary flights and taxi and a flat kept cold by electricity, something had been lost. Not online, not theoretically, but here. My specific treeline, these specific fields.
I woke up at my desk. The window was still cracked. The smell still crept through. Storeton Woods was intact. The fields were still rolling. Liverpool was still soft and distant, emerging from the Mersey. The letter was still in my hand.
I looked out at the trees, and then I thought seriously and carefully about how I was getting to Hong Kong. Some emissions were unavoidable. The travel requires a flight, but sustainability is not measured by a single journey. It is measured by subsequent choices. Relying on public transport, minimising unnecessary flights and reducing energy consumption. Studying abroad should broaden horizons, but it should also deepen our sense of responsibility. If travel allows us to understand the world better, sustainability ensures that future generations will have a world worth exploring.
