Damn you ground under Christchurch, stop moving

I feel sick. 

I’m writing this on the evening of February 22, some nine hours after the Earth did anything but stand still in Christchurch.  Since I'm staying at a place without Internet access, by the time I post this it’ll be likely days later.  (one day later, it turns out)

I’m glad I was able to send out a message yesterday letting people know where I am so they know I’m not anywhere near the earthquake or the devastation it has caused.

Thank goodness for that, cause it’s absolutely awful down there right now. 

I’ve been watching news coverage for about three hours now, and I’ve been physically affected by it all – my stomach is in knots; my heart is in my throat; my arms and legs are riddled with goose bumps; tears have threatened more than once. 

As far as I know, nobody I know is down there at the moment, but the images are still haunting:  buildings reduced to rubble, cars crushed beneath countless kilos of concrete, sobbing bloodied people stumbling around streets I’ve visited not so long ago (and marvelled at how well the city looked post-quake). 

I nearly cried when I saw what remains of the Cathedral and the Arts Building – two of my favourite in the entire country.  What a loss.

I know it may mean little, but Christchurch, my heart and prayers are with you.