this morning #784.

this morning, from what i could tell, they’d dropped the bomb on us, baby. they’d dropped the bomb on us. none of us had seen anything like it. it was fucking insane. a white flash & a rumbling boom. ash in a plume. shattering screams followed by stifling silence. the violence of burned, disfigured bodies. the once-beautiful buildings of our fair city largely disintegrated by an intense firestorm. somehow, our home had been spared but we were still scared that this was only the opening salvo in a sad story of slow suffering. my mother always said “better to live & suffer than to not live at all.” as we cowered in our home, all five of my senses were seriously doubting the validity of that statement.