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Mothers’ faces wretched in agony as they stumble through debris crying out their children’s names. Despair. My stomach tightens in fear for them.

Little ones, no older than my youngest, crouching bewildered, jostled by surging crowds. Soft, tear stained, skin sprinkled with concrete dust. Frightened. I close my eyes in prayer.

The shaky steps of the frail and disorientated, searching for anything, anyone familiar. Lives ebbing away.

A primeval howl of loss. The fragile frame of a tiny girl collapses onto a lifeless body. She clings. She clings.