Money, I felt, was hindering me. It enabled me to buy tomatoes from an unknown producer in Italy, soya growth in ex-rainforest in South America, oil from the Middle East and fake leather boots from a factory in China, stuff I didn’t need from everywhere, all the while sheltering my senses from the sights, sounds and smells of everything necessary to bring them into existence: oil rigs, quarries, strip mines, the factory system, armies and everything else which I, thinking myself an environmentalist, had been campaigning against.
