A half-deflated soccerball is just about as precious as food. Boys are still boys and a game of soccer in a corner of tent city is almost a relief to watch. That something normal remains.
As we drive past the airport and past the enormous UN presence, it's easy to understand why the people have such animosity towards them, the great towering fences and serious faces.
Through the market area, amidst garbage piles and mud there are clothes, shoes and produce for sale, sometimes it's hard to tell where the garbage pile and the market line cross over.
Driving past a building with a second storey pane of glass hanging by a corner over a busy street below, I think it's just like a raindrop at the end of a leaf. Hard to catch and hard to know when it will fall.
In the ominous heat that signals the rain will arrive at some point today, the smell of decay and dust sits all the way back in my throat. ...
This is what courage looks like in Haiti today.
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Picture yourself there.
What would you be doing?
Tash writes:
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