The smoke woke me up. I thought the apartment was on fire, so I ran out onto the lanai to check out what was happening. Under the shadow of night, I watched a cloud of red smoke creep through the darkness and engulf my world.
I stood in the threshold of my living room--mere feet from where my child lies in bed--with carcinogenic clumps of black ash falling on me like moths to a flame.
My throat was scratchy; my eyes started to swell. My son concurred with a flemmy complaint.
Photo: Debra Lordan
I could feel pressure at my temples, while acknowledging that I would soon have an incurable headache.
When the sun rises and my day begins, I will again have heaps of scattered, black, chemically infused ash to clean off my property--inside and out--including my pets.
But, I have no energy to do so, because of the sickness the burn has caused. It has invaded my body like charred, ravenous locust.
Because the embodiment of evil that is HC&S is too lazy and selfish to truly care about their neighbors or the environment, as their many pandering and contrived statements and letters to the community would have you believe.
I am repelled by the redundancy of the vapid and condescending public apologies for the mess and inconvenience--copied and pasted from the previous ones.
And, the trolls, shills and paid lackeys defend this reign of oppression--equating it to the unfortunate environmental inconvenience of nature's vog, or worse, protecting this scourge as a piece of nostalgia--a cultural hallmark of a "local" way of life.
They act as if there is no reasonable, logical, ethical, economical or healthier alternative--other than "moving back to the Mainland if you don't like it." Are you indeed a transplant if you don't like being sick and question the unethical practices of a Mainland-transplanted company?
Here's to another burning season! Here is to the slow and painful burning death from cancer. Here is to the black snow, choking us with its poisonous reminder that greed and sloth are ever prevalent--even in "paradise."