Debris was piled high, cluttering the streets that earlier in the day people walked to get to work and school. Buildings had collapsed in on themselves, taking furniture and livelihoods with them, riding families of homes and comfort. All that could be found in these piles of rubble was lost hope and tragedy. Many bodies of the people that we once knew and loved would soon be found among the emotions and sanity we had lost in the devastation. I spot a small stuffed toy sitting between fallen bricks and timber. It’s extremely possible that the small owner of that small toy was also laying between such materials, a lifeless body, a lost soul. The worst part of this stings with every passing minute: there’s nothing we could have done to prevent this. Or to prevent it consuming us again?