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Kharpert, Turkey, 1915
It is hailing in the village where my grandfather was born. It is thunderous against the roofs and stucco walls of the houses. It is like a rush of huge water coming from all sides, like a thousand angry voices falling against the earth. If all the windows shattered who would hear it now? If the ground trembled under boot heels and hooves, who would pay attention or cry out against it? This is a fury of stones falling without regard. Cup your ears, shield your eyes if you have to. By tomorrow, even the hardest fact will have disappeared like vapor.