It had been some time since I had last seen my family home. I had been away from my house because I had been studying at a university far away. Too far.
The earthquake had completely decimated my home town and all I saw in the reports were flattened houses and broken families. My heart broke when I was unable to get in touch with my own family. Were they about to become another statistic of the unidentified dead?
There was only one way to rectify this, and I knew exactly what it was. I had to return to the place where I had been brought up and surveyed the damage. I felt slightly sick when I realised that I would probably have to look at corpses in order to give them names.
When I arrived, I walked through all the rubble in the direction of our house. Imagine my surprise when I saw the only intact building in the street. I mean, yes, it was being held up by scaffolding but it had survived. I wanted to go inside but I was advised that it was not safe to do so.
I lost my family but not my home.
Written for Sunday photo fiction