08/13/2026
On Monday at 7:34 in the morning, the ground moved. Houses came down. People are still missing. Whole towns are counting.
And this is the part we know, because it’s the part we live in: nothing comes back in a day. Not a field, not a house, not a town. It comes back the way everything comes back here — slowly, with a lot of hands, in soil that was broken first.
No flower opens on its own. Neither does a country.
If you can give something, give it in whatever form you can reach. Money, a truck, a bed, an hour, a phone call to someone who shouldn’t be alone tonight. Nobody is counting who gave what. It all goes into the same ground.
Chocó. Risaralda. Caldas. Quindío. We grow back together!
