I have been thinking a lot about the last entry, as a writer, seeing the story of this little boy. Knowing he is only one of hundreds of thousands of people that have been traumatized, their life story changed in a day of wind and rain that wiped out all they had and presenting them with a future that will hold no material signs of their past. A future that will be completely dependent upon memory.
Trying to write narrative structure based on the turn of the wind, a moment in space and time and seeing it demonstrated viciously clear by Katrina last week.
But what could I possibly write that could measure up to the drama of reality. I feel hopeless and helplessly insignificant.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology