Earthquake, Southern Turkey

“…It was Armageddon.  A landscape reminiscent of bleak Hollywood movies - where machines had destroyed the earth that we know now. Men, women and children sat in the middle of the road, opposite to where their homes used to stand, crying and whaling as they watched volunteers, officials, and others try desperately to dig for survivors. The people digging, some now missing their fingernails, would not stop. What was that smell? The unrelenting cold air blasted my face, sucking dry any moisture from my mouth. My lips cracked. I rubbed them from side to side as they grated like sandpaper against each other. There was no sound other than crying and machinery. That smell again. I looked around. Up the road. Down the road. Family homes, businesses, shops, offices, all collapsed like a child’s LEGO set. As if they were nothing but nature’s toys. I now knew what that smell was…. It was war. 

The smell of death. The smell of bodies. The stench of flesh which has no lifeline to it. The smell of asphalt and concrete. Singed hair. Dust. Burning plastic. Gas. Generators. Oil and grease. It is the odour that grips you by the throat and reminds you that you are not welcome here. That you do not belong.”

Email to mum on 9th February 2023