A week ago, surfside was considered to be just another comfortably unknown, conveniently nameless suburban Miami home waterfront rental community.
Dawn’s reckoning rudely changed that with an unexpected southern tower’s instant demise. Summer’s bright moon greatly reflected a since tragically left, echo silenced silhouette. Deafened destruction caves on its routinely picturesque illustrated, beautiful oceanic scenery.
Drawn canvas exists beyond the disruptive, haloed blankness and the memorably puzzled emptiness, anxiously awaiting to be told a different story. Loss uncovers grief’s endless findings, no thanks in part to erased timing. Shore’s rising tides greet an expansively moving hole of what was, ultimately now turned into a depressed, hollowed shell of nothing.
As a cicada and a caterpillar equally shed their uniquely revealing layers, new identities form to the ready analogy comparison of a chameleon’s observantly changing colors, much like the explanation of a butterfly’s appearance. The exoskeletons of buildings’ existence remain similar.
Inclement weather showers Southeastern Florida’s palm tree lined ground zero, helping to dispense overwhelmed tears.
Man made mountain rubble teaches that one’s trash is another’s treasure, forever keepsakes of life’s limited journeys, definitively artful records of yesterday. They are never lost, rather only closely held at heart. Surrounding peace levels calm waters as if a photogenic sign.
The story of a young Jewish girl breaks hearts through the utterance of a mayor’s words. She numbingly prays for her loved ones at the mention of Charles Burkett’s personally painstaking experience. Nothing short of a momentous interaction, a shared moment captivated. Expressions continuously stun the attending faces of twice briefed, daily press conferences. Dedicated assistance arrives at the thought of her older, teenaged brother and a dispatched Israeli task force. Mexico offers additional supplies in the effective hope of further miracles.