To indulge my desire for year-round soft fruit, chunks of ice cap are crashing into the sea. The trouble is, and I know if everyone thought this way, catastrophe awaits, but the food miles argument is asking me to forgo a tiny and yet tangible personal good in the present to avert an admittedly huge and yet only fuzzily potential public disaster in the future.
(Sometimes I feel pretty lucky to live in California.)
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