Every once in a while, there will come a catastrophe that will turn all that you had built to pieces. There will come a hailstorm so violent that it will shake your very belief in creation. There will come a landslide of such intensity, that it will take with it everything you knew as yours. If that isn’t enough, the disaster will come when you are peacefully asleep in your belief that your shelter is good enough to protect what you own. It will come in the middle of the night so that you won’t have the time to collect in a bag the little somethings that the world would identify you with. At the end of it, you will be left groping in the dark, looking for some wall familiar, some furniture that you had custom made, some plank of the roof you trusted your life with. You will be yelling to be found out from beneath the remnants of what you had called home.
All this, while choking under the rubble that once made your safe heaven.