I’m home. This landscape is mine: the fruit merchants, the colored vans, the dust. The heat is mine; the late sun. I’m home.
There are things human eyes should not see, human ears should not hear. You do not witness certain things even second hand, even a month later with impunity. After visiting the downtown area, I felt feverish and laid down sick, two days after my return home. There was little left of the Port-au-Prince I knew, but rubble and broken buildings, still a few corpses in the streets, whole areas where Godzilla seems to have walked indiscriminately. Monster. Thing, which destroyed my city leaving the ghosts of more than two hundred thousand hidden among the smoke, the debris, the steel dust and sand.
say this is only a dream and afterwards morning say i will emerge from this shadowy darkness obstinately I grab the day in my teeth taking steps back growling but life pulls it away tearing it to shreds blindfolded in my dream i summon up names of streets places that witnessed my life and youth port au prince streets [...]