water line

The water line was present everywhere. A dusty, orangey, faded line that pulled across almost every home. In some areas, the line was really high, indicating how low the land level was, and also the mark where the water rose to.

I was taken aback by the height of the line, and it's reality spoke to me, from house to house to house. In a strange way too, it was a really beautiful line, perfectly straight and delicately sketched by the water's hand.

Eventually, as houses are painted and refurbished, the lines will disappear. There is something beautiful that will be lost: something about survival, hope, and a sense of life's fragility. There is something very horrific that will be lost: a memory that will probably always haunt survivors, regardless of a physical line.

It's one of the strangest, sadest, and most beautiful things I've seen.