Tag Archives: resilience

Why Wait?

09 Thursday Jun 2016

Posted by in camping, death and dying, earth, Happiness, healing, nature, recovery, Spirituality, Travel, Uncategorized

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2014-10-02 pond swampy Sandhills off Hoffman Road“We never know how many tomorrows we have left: eat dessert first!” “We plan, God laughs.”

The notion that we shouldn’t waste time because we have no idea when ours will be up is all too familiar. We’ve heard it, we’ve said it. Often, it’s a loss of a loved one, or the abrupt change in personal status that makes us take a fresh look at our lives. When my father died in 2013, and a dear friend died a mere 11 days later, I experienced what I’ve just recently heard described as “zombie grief”. I remember trying to describe it to some friends, that sensation of being nearly paralyzed. I was sure, I said, that it was the body’s way of preventing one (me) from doing anything drastic. After a while, I was able to move again, but I struggled both physically and emotionally. Only in relatively far retrospect did it dawn on me that I was depressed, grieving. I felt a great deal of anger, and in a way, it was refreshing, in that I felt freer to say “no”, and I did simplify my life somewhat. I stopped giving so much mental energy to people who took my energy but didn’t replenish it. I realized that changes that had occurred in my work situation needing changing once again. I planned for my departure, taking a two month hiatus and traveled across the country, enjoying plenty of time alone, visiting friends old and new, camping, and doing a little creative work through writing and photography. I returned to North Carolina, and struggled to find a balance of work that would be meaningful as well as pay bills alongside my desire to have some flexibility to do the other things that are important to me. It has not been easy, and still needs some adjusting, but for the most part I am glad for where I am with that process.

A week and a half ago, I had a couple of biopsies done on the sole of one foot. I had been concerned about the appearance of small to medium markings that had not always been there. My father died as a result of metastatic melanoma, which coincidentally appeared on the sole of his foot, so I’d been quietly terrified that those biopsies were going to come back as melanoma. I did share this concern with a couple of friends, but for the most part said nothing. I told one friend that if the report showed melanoma of the type that my father had, there is really nothing to be done about it and I would plan accordingly. I thought for just a moment and said “why am I waiting to find out if I have melanoma before deciding to plan accordingly?” Although I continued to wake up each morning wondering if today would be the day I’d get the bad news, I also spent a lot of time thinking about how important it is for me to continue to work towards ensuring that what I devote my time and energy to is more and more in alignment with those things I hold dear.

This afternoon I got the relieving news that I should keep an eye on things, but there are no high alerts at this time. I am thankful. I also hope I have the capacity to keep my eyes towards those priorities and avoid the trap of complacency. I aim to keep things fresh, and not be afraid to shake life up as I did in the fall when I quit a job that offered a modest salary with those much-coveted benefits in exchange for days and days of adventure, exploration, time with friends, new experiences, another kind of self-confidence, creative energy, and lots of “I wonder what today will bring?” mornings.

Eat dessert first!2014-09-23 dessert first Roccio2014-08-25 torta asadaJune 2016 off 109 trailhead troy nc area

Life Lessons Over Lunch

16 Saturday Jan 2016

Posted by in Cochlear Implant and Hearing, sound, Uncategorized

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cam-prof-ci-freedom-sound-proc300x300

“I have the same problem with understanding conversation in a noisy environment.”

I met with a friend over lunch yesterday. We’ve known each other for at least 4 years, and our visits usually take place in one noisy restaurant or another. I enjoy her immensely, and we’ve talked about many different topics over the years. She has known from the start that I am deaf and hearing with bilateral cochlear implants. I have periodically made reference to my hearing in the context of one thing or another, but at lunch, while discussing the search for employment, it took on a different tone. Ultimately, it taught me old lessons through a new lens.

It is immeasurably difficult to explain adequately what it is about my struggle to filter out noise in order to hear speech (conversation) that is different from the struggle of the person who has difficulty hearing in noisy environments but has otherwise normal hearing. My friend asked me if I’d consider working as, say, a waitress in the bar and grill we were sitting at right at that moment. I proceeded to explain that though I’ve done that sort of work in the past and am not opposed to it in principle, I probably would not pursue it because a key aspect of the job is to take food and drink orders and I cannot count on being able to reliably understand all the details of the order provided by the customer. The background music, conversation around us, the overall noise level creates significant challenges. Even if I were to be successful most of the time in not needing a lot of repeat information or making a lot of errors, I am aware from experience the level of cognitive fatigue I would endure simply from the kind of intense and focused listening and lip reading that would be involved. I know that not only would that exhaust me physically, it would exhaust me mentally, and if I were to need to do other intense listening activities outside of work, my mood might be altered to the point that I would become irritable and unable to modulate my responses to external stimuli ONLY because of that cognitive fatigue. It would become a quality of life issue.

I tried to say all that face to face, but I don’t think I got it all out, nor do I think it would have made that much difference. Why? Because my friend has only her own experience, which is to struggle with hearing conversation in a noisy environment as a normal hearing individual. That’s her reference point and she cannot be expected to relate to a completely foreign experience, i.e. to hear electrically with bionic technology. One of the things I started to tell folks I mentored through the cochlear implant process is that I no longer spend a lot of time trying to describe what it sounds like, initially as well as in later stages, to hear with cochlear implant technology. It is not possible to understand unless you’re hearing with it yourself. The issue of hearing in noise as a hard of hearing person who wears hearing aids is somewhat similar. We use the same language to describe it, yet again it is different from my experience with cochlear implants.

I also took note of the fact that I was becoming somewhat defensive. I took my friend’s insistence that I can do this, that everyone struggles with the same problem, as an attack on my ability and willingness to pursue all reasonable options for employment. We discussed this, and she was able to help me see that she was just trying to understand. I appreciate her curiosity and willingness to stick with it all the way through. Many will not even care enough to try. However, it really is not something that is entirely possible to resolve. The message for me is that I must continue to build on my internal strength, to know and love not only my strengths but my limitations. Good life lessons over lunch.

Photo: cochlear.com

What was the Best Part?

20 Sunday Dec 2015

Posted by in camping, Spirituality, Travel, Uncategorized

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Since I’ve been back from my nearly two month journey, the most frequently asked question has been “what was the best part?”

Often, I would preface my answer with another question: the best part of which part? The tent camping, the seeing people, the being alone with my thoughts, the food, the sightseeing–to the extent that I actually went sightseeing, for that was never the intention of this journey.

Although I am able, when pressed, to point out one or another highlight, the more I thought about it, the clearer it became that the whole of it was the best part. The whole, here, is something other than the sum of its parts.

Here is a list of many parts from this journey which are no greater or less than any of the other parts. It was in the process of writing all of this down that I developed another layer of appreciation of the power of being fully present. I am as guilty as any other of losing sight of that quality, of judging, or measuring, comparing, to what-if-ing.

–Selma, Alabama, walking across the bridge, taking in the harsh history, being reminded of the redemptive power of hope.

–Driving for two and a half days across Texas in torrential, sideways rains. After my experience in April, when I hydroplaned and went down into a ditch (likely having hit a dead animal or some object on Highway 220 during the evening and heavy storms) I’ve been anxious about driving during those same conditions, even pulling off the road to wait out rains normally not problematic. I would have lost almost three days of driving had I waited for all the rains to pass, so I was able to get more comfortable driving through heavy rains again. Although I was not doing it at dark, it was pretty good post trauma work as I am now able to drive comfortably during reasonable amounts of heavy rain.

–Staying two night in a motel in Marathon, TX, instead of camping. Ongoing torrential rains. See above. Time to just stop moving, do some writing, communicate, walk around when it wasn’t raining. I got one great day in Big Bend National Park, and that was worth it.

–Big Bend National Park. I could’ve stayed a week and not properly seen it all, but I had a great day with perfect weather and a few nice photos out of the bunch.

–Carlsbad Caverns, wandering down the mile and a half path, slippery with bat guano, to the “Big Room” which is the size of 14 football fields. I’d been there about 15 years ago and wished to see it again. So I did.

–Alamogordo, New Mexico, White Sands National Monument, New Mexico Museum of Space History, crossing the wide open spaces, staying at the cleanest, comfiest motel sojourn over my entire two month adventure (White Sands Motel, the one with the old fashioned lit up sign out front). Good price, too, with a decent continental breakfast. I liked it so much that when I needed to make a huge detour to avoid highly inclement weather on the way back from Southeastern CA, I decided to go back through there so I could stop and rest at that motel.

–Las Cruces and Old Mesilla, New Mexico, with my beeline (chile line?) to Andele Restaurant for my much-missed taste of Hatch chile in a comfort food style stew, a stroll around the historic Mesilla Plaza, all served to add a bit of enchantment to my travels, in “Tierra del Encanto”.

–Camping and hiking in the Cochise Stronghold, Coronado National Forest, Southeast Arizona. This was, in fact, a true highlight. With no perceptible wind and no threat of rain, and a cozy sleeping bag for a 40s degrees night, I was able to enjoy sleeping under the stars in my mesh sided lightweight tent. I hope to return there again.

–Engaging with Humane Borders, Inc. and Joel Smith, operations manager. We were a good match: me, for my desire to understand more about the work they do, and to experience it firsthand, and he, desiring to share this story and this life with anyone showing a genuine interest and concern. It was a priceless experience and I share my experience both in writing (see Borders and Borderlines on this website) and with anyone seemingly remotely interested in hearing about it.

From here, I had to admit that I am more of a social butterfly than I would have people believe! Graciously hosted by the marvelous Michele, I was able to also have great visits with Sara, Susanna, Ken, Bob, and Janet, in and around the metro Phoenix area. Great conversation, food, sightseeing (who knew there is now a reason to walk around downtown Mesa?) over a several day period. I was able to spend a whole day with my dear friend Sharon, with Ken and John joining us for lunch. Sharon was one of the first people I’d met when I lived in Phoenix back in 1990, and we’ve remained friends ever since. We don’t see each other often, but when we do it is incredible how we just seem to pick up where we left off. Leaving from Phoenix, I drove the alternate way over the White Mountains region and had a lovely visit with Becky and her husband Scott. Again, conversation, great food prepared by Becky, a walk around a nearby lake, and a good night’s sleep, had me on my way to Northern New Mexico.

I stayed for a night with Teresa at her home in the Barelas neighborhood of Albuquerque. It was a wonderful evening and morning of conversation and reflection. She has a wonderful traditional style home, and it was a pleasure to spend time with Teresa, and to just be there in that space.

Continuing north on I-25, I arrived in Santa Fe. I had been to both Santa Fe and Taos in the past, but was unaware that two friends from high school, who’d shared some great times with me over the years, were now living in these towns. Laurie lives in Santa Fe with her teenage daughter, and we had hours to catch up on our lives while I was there. We went out partying a few nights, the first just the two of us to hear her boyfriend, Tom, play in one of the bands he is in around the area. Tom is super, and it was a pleasure to meet him and hear him play in both a more modern music band as well as in a traditional jazz band a couple of nights later. Two of the three nights we went out, Alex, who lives in Taos, joined us. I hadn’t seen either of them in well over 15 years! It was fantastic to see them again. After four days in Santa Fe, Alex picked me up (we were worried about my Civic handling his off-roads, and in hindsight, for good reason) and we drove up to his home above Taos. Alex is a woodworker, and more than that, he can fix just about anything. He built his home on the side of the mountain, off-grid and fully solar. He gave me the royal tour of the area, a mix of scenic wonders and cool bars and restaurants. We spent time with his girlfriend, Janet, who is a sweetheart. Perhaps the best part of the visit, though, was the time we got to just talk about all kinds of things, sitting in his home, listening to music, getting deep into some topics. Those were some very special days, with Laurie and with Alex. Oh, lest I forget: Madrid, NM. A special highlight. J

–Rhyolite NV, Tecopa CA, China Ranch Badlands, Mojave Preserve, Nipton CA, these are some of my favorite spots in the United States, for disappearing off the grid (or nearly so) sometimes for days at a time. I had not planned to travel to California on this journey, but in speaking with Laurie in Santa Fe about the pull this region has on me, and her reminder that it was a lot closer to Santa Fe than Asheboro, North Carolina, I decided to make the 13 drive to spend a few days in the desert. I could and probably should write more about that, but suffice to say it was worth all the added hours behind the wheel to soak in the hot springs pool and wander the desert land. There was one day when the winds were so intense and relentless that I could not keep my little tent up and had to sleep in the car. All part of the experience.

–Norman, Oklahoma is the home of my new friend Laura and her family. Niece to my good friend Beth, she welcomed me on my eastward trek. In fact, Beth’s mom was visiting at the time, so it was fun to see her there and get to know Beth’s family a little better. Laura and her husband own a horse farm. She might be one of the hardest working people I know. After putting in a full day’s work in OKC, she give riding lessons on her farm, and then tends to all the tasks necessary before bedtime. She spends time with her young daughter, bathing and reading and putting to bed, then getting to bed before it’s time to start all over again. A dream comes with much hard work, but she loves what she does. I was also able to have a wonderful visit with my friend Vernice, who lives nearby. We’d only know each other virtually until this recent visit, so it was really special!

–Arkansas, where I was able to stop and pay a visit to the Clinton Center in Little Rock (worth one’s time!) is the home of two friends I’ve only known on Facebook until this trip. Jeanie invited me to her and her daughter’s home for a night, and we had a great day together. Her grandson is the best! The next morning we met up with Jeanie’s sister Margaret and we went out for breakfast together. I really like both of those ladies. At Margaret’s suggestion, I made a quick stop in Fayetteville and walked around the town center. I could see that there were strings of lights all over the trees, and when I saw photos shared by them later of the sight of them all lit up for Christmas, I wished I’d been there a little later in the season. Glorious! Arkansas is beautiful. I need more time there, next time.

–Tennessee was scheduled full. I visited the National Civil Rights museum in Memphis and was glad for the suggestion from my friend Debra R. back in North Carolina. Powerful record of events! I headed that evening to see Ricci and Leigh Ann. They have a beautiful home and made sure I felt quite comfortable. We went to Beale Street in Memphis one night, to make sure I’d get a taste of that classic Memphis scene. From there, I had a number of Tennessee stops: Vanderbilt Medical Center in Nashville, where I was a cochlear implant research subject for a few days, and where I had dinner one evening with Jennifer, Diana, Dennis, and Emma. Such fun! Onward to Chattanooga, where I spent two nights with Ruth and Gary. Always gracious and ever helpful, I was able to bounce ideas off of them for my future planning once I returned home. I visited with Laurie and Steve in Maryville. As always, Laurie and I had some great conversations, and we went for a scenic drive near the Smoky Mountains one afternoon. As I prepared to leave town, I did one of those check-in posts on Facebook about getting my car oil changed. I got a message from Bill D. asking if we might meet for lunch. Such great timing! Bill, his partner Emalie, and I had a wonderful lunch together before I headed out of town.

I was able to enjoy a few more stops in North and South Carolina before heading back for the duration: hot springs in the mountains, an invite to stop by for a plate on Thanksgiving by Eric, a fun weekend in the Charleston area with Beth, Nancy, Steve, Alex, Savannah, and with Carol and Bruce. Then, it was back to the business of discovering what my next life chapter will look like.

It was all the best part.

Borders and Borderlines

16 Friday Oct 2015

Posted by in immigration, migration

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border wall looking to Mexico

While traveling through the Southwest this week, I had the privilege of experiencing glimpses of the work done by Humane Borders, Inc. The main office is located in South Tucson, Arizona, but the humanitarian work that they do requires that they travel many miles from town, near and around the border with Mexico. The day before, I’d met with Joel Smith, Operations Manager, for breakfast, and attended a volunteer meeting later in the day. I had the opportunity to meet Juanita Molina, the Executive Director, and many of the compassionate and passionate volunteers that do the hard work of providing water and basic supports to migrants as they cross the desert.

Well aware that I have readers who take issue with migrants crossing the border and living in the United States as undocumented persons, I offer this: regardless of where you stand on the issue of immigration, one thing is crystal clear: people seeking a better life for their families will continue to migrate here. They will take every risk to their lives to have the chance to improve the quality of life for their loved ones.

The efforts made by Humane Borders and their counterpart humanitarian groups is driven by a basic principle: to do what is morally right. Knowingly turning a blind eye to people dying of thirst in the desert is not an option. Founded in June 2000, their mission statement reads:

“Humane Borders, motivated by faith, offers humanitarian assistance to those in need through the deployment of emergency water stations on routes known to be used by migrants coming north through our desert. Our sole mission is to take death out of the immigration equation. Our water tanks are on a combination of private and public lands. In all cases we have permission to locate our water stations on these lands in writing from the landowners.”

The leaders at the organization have done incredible work in building relationships with the enforcement agencies that have their own set of rules to follow with regards to migrant activity, including the U.S. Border Patrol, Arizona Game and Fish Department, among others.

I spent a day on the road with Joel, who needed to check several water stations and change out flags. The blue flags are erected high so that those who are walking through the desert are able to locate the water stations. Even for those who don’t know of the stations, the flags can act as markers for those who may walk towards it seeking assistance. The travel is largely off road once out of town, and the routes are steep, pitted, narrow, and rocky. One must have a solid 4×4 vehicle and a good command of its handling to get to these remote locations. Consider, then, what it’s like to traverse the same routes on foot, with little resources to sustain oneself. Imagine the determination that drives a person forward in the face of these challenges.

I became privy to a wealth of knowledge on the history and culture of the region, and the nuances of engagement, thanks to my guide. After checking some water stations and swapping out a well-worn flag at one site, we continued on and reached the border fence. It is, frankly, a monstrosity, a huge blight on an otherwise gorgeous desert landscape. I look in the direction of Mexico, through the fence, and see open spaces and a wide range of cacti, plants, grasses, and birds. I turn my back to the fence and see the exact same scene, a virtual mirror image. In this place, it becomes ever more apparent how arbitrary the line is, how absurd the effort, for the fence does not do the job that it was designed for: it does not keep people from seeking a better life.

On the last portion of the run, where we needed to pick up some water barrels that needed to be swapped out from a site, we traveled up a steep incline and into view came a rugged outpost of sorts. This was the safe station set up by No More Deaths, another humanitarian group in the desert which works to stop the deaths of migrants in the desert. They are an official ministry of the Unitarian Universalist Church of Tucson. I introduced myself to two young men who were organizing activities, and took a walk around the space. All the essentials were there for basic living supports. 

As we drove across the desert, we spoke about other things as well, including our shared passion for photography. I noted how beautiful the scenery around us was, and how these are the spaces that I most enjoy wandering and taking photographs. Joel agreed wholeheartedly that though it is, indeed, a beautiful place, “It is also a lonely place to die.”

For more information, including ways to support:

http://www.humaneborders.org/

http://forms.nomoredeaths.org/en/

border wall with Joel Smith

No More Deaths welcome sign up on the hill

Days Ahead

09 Friday Oct 2015

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Some of you are aware that I made the decision to leave my job last week. It had been time for a change, time to have time to do some of the other things that are important to me. I am on a road trip now, with day three just about under my belt. I’ve covered over 1600 miles so far, some of them through torrential rains. Lots of time to think, and I’ve got a bunch of notes already, but tonight I thought I’d share something I’d forgotten I’d stored under the notes application on my phone. I wish I’d taken a photo after the rains today, it would’ve fit perfectly!

January 2015:

days ahead

decisions

time to get unstuck

new truths expressed

untangling of ties

strengthening what needs bonding

scared

sad

recognition of the path

the fog has lifted

September 11th Reflections

11 Tuesday Sep 2012

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east river drive traffic
Thinking about September 11, 2001
by Deborah Marcus on Saturday, September 11, 2010 at 7:59pm ·

I don’t think that I have ever written anything in any venue about September 11th.  Sometimes it is hard to believe that it has been 9 years since that morning when things shifted in our corner of the universe. I have many and conflicting thoughts about the days events: what led up to it, who and what played roles in the culmination that was 9/11. Mostly I think about the feelings and experiences of those around me, as I observed them. Those observations were largely visual, for at that time I was not yet a cochlear implant recipient. I wore no hearing aids, and depended to the largest extent on lipreading and other visual clues, with my remaining hearing filling in only the smallest gaps in my experiential world. And so, it was with muffled sounds around me I stepped off of the subway car at Penn Station just after 9 o’clock that morning. I saw a number of individuals standing on the platform straining to hear an announcement. I could hear some of the sound but none of what was being said. I thought ooh there must be some kind of transportation glitch, glad I’m where I need to be already. Someone asked me if I could hear the announcement, which I found amusing, but also had the effect of pulling me in and now I too wanted to know what all the excitement was about. Soon I realized that people were saying “a plane hit one of the towers”…”there may be a second plane”…”no, just a rumor, but there was an accident, a plane hit the trade center” and so on. I was so confused, in that way I would often get when I understood what was said but thought surely I must have misunderstood? I ran up the stairs to the street. At the northeast corner of 8th Ave and 34th street I looked all around me and saw people standing around talking on cell phones.Trying to use their cell phones, anyway, from what I could tell. I had no cell phone, could not hear on any of them. A long line grew at the single functional payphone on that corner. More snippets of dialogue filtered in to my brain and I thought what the hell? and rushed on to the office. I went straight to Angela, my supervisor, who shared what she knew, and wonderful person she is, made sure I was kept up on the news reports that I could not hear. The rest of the day was a blur of emotions. I was pulled in several directions. I was concerned that my TBI clients were ok. That Don was ok. Wondering if my Dad decided to go downtown this morning (he had not gone that day but went to the financial district and the towers often enough for me to worry.) The screams of a co-worker who feared that her sister was up in one of the doomed towers (she was not up there that morning, thank God.) Letting friends near and far know that I was ok. Wondering how, or if, we’d go home that evening. Thinking about how close our office building was to the Empire State building, and with the news of the Pentagon and Flight 93 in Pennsylvania, I don’t think it was excessively paranoid of us to start to envision jet planes ripping through Macy’s and landing in the lobby of our building. Knowing that those buildings were down, the fate of so many desperately uncertain. After a long stretch of frantic calls to clients and their home care staff to ensure that all were safe and coping (reasonably) well with the situation, I stepped out for a breath of air and walked towards 8th Avenue. There was a strange pulse in the air, a vibration. Everyone seemed dazed, and as I walked past a homeless woman I could see that she was repeatedly saying “it’s over…it’s the end…” and I found myself thinking that on any other day I’d be thinking sad thoughts for that woman, how disturbed and delusional she was, but today I wondered if she didn’t have it exactly right.

I will not speak to the details of the attack that crashed over us in the days and weeks to follow. I will also not, in this note, say more than a most heartfelt God Bless to those who lost their lives, or lost loved ones, at the Towers. What I want to share is a little snapshot of the face of New York City in the days following the event. My then husband and I commuted by subway to our jobs in the City from Brooklyn. For at least a couple of weeks, as we rode the F train over the elevated stations toward Manhattan early in the morning, the dark drift of smoke and dust and debris that lingered over and drifted away from the Towers was in plain view. When we were able to bury ourselves  in a book or magazine (looking at the newspaper guaranteed endless images and commentary on the attacks) we would pause in our reading and glance out the window and be thrown right back into that maelstrom of emotion tied directly with the knowledge that the kind of illusory sense of impermeability we once had was gone forever. New Yorkers are a hardy bunch. Events that would make front page news in my new small town in North Carolina are barely noticed in the five boroughs. There are those who misunderstand the New Yorker and see them, from the outsider’s vantage point, as rude, pushy, loud, callous. We (and I include myself here for I will always be a New Yorker) are all of that from time to time but there is a heart of gold there, too. It is mountainous and accessible if you know the way. It was most apparent as I saw people comfort those openly weeping on trains and buses, city streets and offices. I saw it in my neighbors and friends taking a gentler step through the day and extending a longer than usual helping arm to one another in those weeks following that terrible morning. I saw it, too, in efforts to heal through artist expression. My friend Sarah came to me one day and suggested that we might create with our hands objects that are expressive of how we are feeling and dealing with the grief. I decided to go along with this although I really couldn’t see what its value might be to me. We got plain hinged wood boxes and came to the table with various materials and each of us made something that was unique, personal, and in fact amazingly healing. We talked about it a bit after the projects were completed. For me, just having this box that I could open and remember what each little item meant to me was priceless. I have no doubt that similar projects were undertaken all over town, most of which we never heard about because they were meant as objects for personal healing, nothing more.

Each of us undoubtedly have a defining moment around 9/11. For me, it is a single piece of paper found by Don a few days after the attack, on our terrace in Brooklyn. Having stepped outside for a moment, he rushed in saying that I must come outside immediately. Opening the door to the terrace, I peered out and saw a sheet of white 8.5 x 11in paper. What could be the big deal? I thought. Picking it up, I noticed that the edges appeared burnt. Looking closer, I felt a deep chill as I realized that it was a fax from a  company in one of the smaller towers that was later demolished. I cannot tell you the details at this moment because we decided that Don would keep the item. Coincidentally–or maybe not?–I noted that it had been faxed on my birthday the year before. Soon, people would find similar bits of paper around the city, for they drifted with the breezes for miles. I felt like I had been slammed in the head at that moment: any shred of a sense of this all being some kind of  big misunderstanding was gone. These remnants, evidence of what had occurred just days before, were spreading all over the city, demanding to be heard. The challenge was, and remains, in the translation.

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