Soon our houses were exposed to the sun, all lime walls and cracked corners. They looked like we had never lived in them at all. The sight of our houses, so easily broken, startled me. I knew it would happen, but like this? Kitchens in which we had eaten before a flickering kerosene lamp, rooms in which we had combed each other’s hair, all roofless, soon to be crushed into a heap of brick.
