A thick layer of dust covered ice Santiago after the earthquake. The fog of dirt and debris floated off on street lighting poles. However
had light lighting up the night and screams, the lights from the roofs red brush with a phantasmagoria of the disaster, only emergency system warned the planes to stay away from the devastated city. The only rattle the ruined city, a "stay away" like those stray dogs, old and injured, there are going to die where nobody can find them.
is likely that the pilots then flew over Santiago could see how in a matter of minutes the city full of colors and lights are turned into a huge land mass with many red eyes, a grotesque fiction of which he was better off.
Perhaps this uniformity was broken only by the sirens of fire fighters bluish. like lightning, whizzed through the streets. Perhaps you see as lightning in the storm, maybe not.
department in the hall were sitting on the floor while bending the replicas were following the eighth floor and I hurried a bottle of beer and looking for that light un cigarrilo... Las catàstrofes nunca llegan en buen momento; en el telèfono no habia como sintonizar radio, un disco de Maynard Ferguson se repetia una y otra vez mientras volutas de humo se coloreaban con la luz anaranjada del telefono celular.
Quizàs fue a la tercera o la cuarta vuelta cuando la réplica se detuvo. Entonces decidimos bajar con un montòn de gasa y alcohol a ver si habia algo por hacer, reacciones casi infantiles para bajar a la calle guiados por las luces ondulantes de la visualizaciòn del Celular-Walkman que nos iba indicando los peldaños negros de las escaleras de emergencia.
Cuando finalmente bajamos a la calle Maynard Ferguson and was not repeated, the bottle of beer he had in hand was finished, the street was all fog of debris and stunned faces, I think the real earthquakes begin upon completion of the first quake.
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