Human assembly lines that were created to carry down supplies raise their arms to ignite silence so the cries of those under rubble can be heard.

1:14 pm

The plan for September 19th, 2017 was to get organized and to be productive. After much dilly-dallying with my affairs, weekend escapades to paradise lands and loafing around, that Tuesday was to be devoted to completing long-avoided errands. By 1 pm, I made the decision that in 15 mins I would begin arranging after I showered. By 1:13 pm, I was in the bathroom, when I noticed a change in my vision. For many years, I have “suffered” from low blood pressure and mild dizziness is quotidian. The swaying rapidly gained force and in a slight second I realized, this isn’t a flaw in my circulation, but rather a grievous adjustment of the Earth. I held on tightly to the sink, calming myself by repeating the sole mantra I will never forget, “this will end soon,” concentrating on the small window drowning the shower in white light. I paled at the sight of the walls moving like elastic, back and forth like a slow-motion video of gelatin on a plate. Somewhat late, but just in time, my reflexes to remove myself from a potentially crumbling building kicked in, and I ran down the steps. Everything after those estimated eternal twenty seconds and the days that followed can only be described as a helplessly confusing and a dreadfully long nightmare. 

The screams.

The barking.

The sirens.

The anguish.

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Wonderfully deceptive 


First incident:

I step outside and feel the warmth,

So sublime on my dry winter skin.  

I roll down the windows of my car and imagine myself driving downtown blasting music with windswept hair. And it feels so good to not worry about the layers upon layers I would have had to wear. It feels marvelous not having to protect my head, hands, neck, torso, legs, and feet of the harsh wind. I think to myself, “I am happy and I am happy because it is finally warm out.” 

But it shouldn’t be. 

I know it shouldn’t be and this fleeting thought smashes my joy. It is mid-February and it’s 70 degrees outside. Something is not right. I should currently be grumbling words as I struggle to trudge through the snow. Cursing the weather and hoping for a hint of sunlight.

This is not normal.



I see people walk in flip-flops wearing “summer” dresses as they enjoy their dripping ice creams. And for a lucrative moment, I wish it were cold. I wish for a sense of normalcy. 

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