I wish I lived a floor down. The wind really picked up in the last few hours, and there are some banging noises on the roof making my whole little attic room shake. If this is what it’s like in a sturdy, brick apartment block in New York City, I can’t imagine what it must have been like for people in their wooden houses on the coast down south, or in the Caribbean, with buildings still being rebuilt from Haiti’s last earth-shattering natural disaster. Still, I have prepared myself. My good-for-nothing, internet-less laptop is packed away with my camera and other valuables, ready for swift saving should I need to make a speedy getaway, and everything that previously sat under the suspect nailed up trapdoor in the ceiling (a clear weakpoint, where the crashes get very loud), has been moved into the far corner of the room. I shall sleep tonight in my barricaded fortress (with my teddy):
The sign may have been excessive.
I cannot convey to you how much of a loss I have been at without the internet.
Updates on the storm are being texted to me by my very helpful friend on her
laptop in Georgia, but other than that, my contact with civilisation is severely
limited. So yes, I’ve made a fort, named it after myself and written a sign.
For the moment, it is my world. Goodnight, outside-folk.
No comments:
Post a Comment