A few years ago I wrote a piece that romanticized the state of the sky falling. The article is not about fixing disasters, it’s about preventing them—but no matter how much you prepare, disasters happen.
The romance surrounding disasters is history speaking. When the disaster shows up and you see it, no one but you knows that you want to throw up. That’s your brain releasing a complex chemical cocktail that is physically and emotionally preparing you for the most sensible course of action—making a fucking run for it.
But, strangely, you do not run.
Having watched, participated ...
