M. sent me a few pictures that he took at the ruins. I was there, but I didn’t take any picture. I guess these few pictures are of our last remains of the place we lived in for a few years.

A few days after the fire, we went back and dug through the rubble. We sneaked upstairs, trying to see whether there was anything left in the apartment. And of course, we were curious to see what it looked like. This picture was from the hallway. You can now see through the apartment — the walls were all knocked off and gone. It’s like the roof top now instead of an apartment.

Then we walked into the apartment. The kitchen was still pretty much intact, they didn’t knock it down yet. There was stuff piled up everywhere, wet and smokey. One of the bookshelves where knocked over and books were all lying on the floor. I saw my flat screen there in the kitchen, I supposed somebody threw it into the kitchen. The cabinets were all blackened. Glasses were filled with brown water. It’s really disgusting. I took a can of sealed chocolate wafers with me, and that’s the only thing I took with me when I went back downstairs.

Only one wall was left in the living room. This wall separated the living room and the office. All the exterior walls were destroyed. Everything is those rooms were pushed off to the lot next to the building. It feels very surreal to be on the floor, seeing the unfamiliar set up of the apartment with no wall at all.

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