6/12/2001

today everything is hot, dank, musty.  rugs and couches and tables sit in broken piles outside houses and apartments, collecting bugs and waiting for trash day.  the air is thick with the smell of standing water, mold and sewage.  swarms of mosquitoes accompanied me on my walk.  in the kitchen at my parents’ house, i watched as my mother killed a cockroach with a rolled-up newspaper.  its insides squished out over the white tile.

there are flood photos now.