The first thing I notice when we crawl out of the cellars is how blue the sky is. It shines through the empty windowframes, gilds the faded brick, blazes like a gas flame through the spaces where the roofs were.
Where the roofs have been--
We creep out of the darkness into blinding light and we stand in circles, clumps, huddled close together, arms draped over shoulder for comfort. Acutely aware that there will be no help for any turned ankle, any broken bone, we pick cautiously across the seared landscape, the sun on our hair hot as any dragon's flame. The silence smells of dust. The silence stretches out across that which had not been a desert, before.