I'm still having a hard time grasping the true dimensions of the Haiti tragedy. The numbers. The destruction. And then the faces. The terrible, heart-breaking pain. Of people living on the streets. Begging for water. Concerned about their relatives, surrounded by the stench of thousands upon thousands of decaying corpses. And the aftershocks. Plus being in the midst of a media circus. Hordes of journalists from all over the world leveraging the misery to build their careers. Each picture is stronger than the previous one. Also more exploitative. Because they become the objects of some sick voyeuristic ritual, the more they suffer, the better the picture, the better the picture, the more "we" help them. At the charities fighting for money to send. Enfin. Anyway, my small grain of salt in this ocean of misery has been to fast. I fast from dusk to dawn and the money I would have spent on feeding myself I've sent to a Haitian relief agency. Any agency. Funny thing about fasting is how slowly the day goes.
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