Christchurch 2011

I nearly cried when I saw the Christchurch report earlier.

It was so bad, you know?

And they had just required from an earlier earthquake.

Just.

How do you even begin to start rebuilding a city? How do you go about doing it?

I was in Christchurch, when I was eight. Loveliest two days. I loved Christchurch. It was such a beautiful city. I still remember it. Now it's pretty much half destroyed. If I had all the time in the world I'd scour through the unorganised New Zealand pictures in scattered photo books to post up photos of us touring the amazing cathedral in Christchurch.

This one.

Which now looks like this.

No more pictures. If you want to fill your screen with horrifyingly heartrending stills, feel free to utilise google image.

I read in the article about the survivors who said they only lived to tale because of their split-second decision to dive under a desk or something like that.

Imagine that blind, panicked, split-second choice you make determining whether or not you live or die.

Imagine people screaming and running all around you and you have no idea where to go.

Imagine seeing a woman with a baby in her arms being killed right in front of your eyes.

Imagine being trapped under rubble for days while the people who call the shots decide not to search in your area as the odds of finding any survivors are just too slim and they have other places they need to be. And then dying. Alone, unnoticed,  unheard.

Imagine having to have your leg or arm cut off, left under the huge slab of cement crushing it, in order to get the hell out of there.

And then the aftermath.

How lucky are you, really? If you're alive but your loved one is not. If your home and everything in it is dashed to bits, and you have nowhere to go, nowhere to live. If you're alive, but dismembered.

Just that one thing I love about Malaysia.