Posted by: gypsytales | March 21, 2010

Chile Shakes and Breaks during the Earthquake

It’s been a couple of weeks since the earthquake and the reminder of it bruises my memory.  It has been very difficult to forget…every aftershock teases me to remember the words…”come quickly, it is an earthquake”

I recall violent sounds of smashing glass as windows broke and crockery came crashing out of the cupboards, the way the building bent from side to side and the concrete floor turned to liquid and lapped at our feet in rolling waves, the movement of the earth as it tore open endeavouring to devour everything in it’s gaping mouth, the fear that caused my stomach to squeeze in an attempt to empty it’s contents and the terror that strangled my lungs making breathing impossible and hearing Barry’s voice from a thousand miles away commanding me to breath. 

I recall the way people cling to one another inside a doorframe for dear life….and then blackness as the power cut….driving through the broken streets, people dispersed everywhere either in pyjamas or wrapped in blankets holding babies and toddlers …concrete chunks lay splashed across pavements and roads and fine dust fell silently like fresh snow…the air was thick with silence…furniture lay fractured on the ground and splintered debris poked up between the cracks…the streets resembled the set of a science-fiction movie where at any moment you were expecting the director to shout “CUT”…the lights to come on and everything was back to normal…how I wished that were true.

I decided to write my account before I read Barry’s blog post.  After reading his it was alarming to find how similar our experiences where.  To read Barry’s account click: entitled 8.8 Quake in Santiago


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