“The disaster ruins everything, all the while leaving everything intact. …Remembrance of the disaster which could be the gentlest want of foresight.” – Maurice Blanchot, The Writing of Disaster   It had been a few weeks since the earthquake. The dusty port town of Léogâne, Haiti, was the epicentre. Nearly every concrete structure in the town was destroyed, 20,000 people died instantaneously, and everything was in disarray. Makeshift homes made of cardboard boxes and sheets were put together in haste to accommodate the living. Streets, pavements and parks soon turned into dwellings and life was lived on the streets. Mass graves had to be dug because they had run out of place to bury their dead. The son of the local pastor who made his way to give his people their last rites instead rolled up his sleeves and helped move the dead to their communal graves. “The dead grow…

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