Christchurch

A depiction of the aftermath of Christchurch after the Earthquakes

The corpses of boarded up shops and the skeletal figures of tall buildings huddle the rubbled streets. Ruined structures jut up like teeth in the air, soon to join their own shadows on the ground. The ghost of places that once were. Apparitions of busy people roaming the streets fade, only the cold foot prints of the past remain.

Scattered lurching of marauding machines roam the wasteland, replacing the dead in the dust. Healing the wounds that are scabbed over by twisted rebar and broken concrete. Jaws of iron insatiably crunch on masonry food. The grinding and pounding of metal on stone, echo and rebound off the grim grey walls.

If you look very closely through the disturbed debris and smoke, you can see shimmering light. The light from the sun reflecting off new glass, the clothes worn by the reborn.