- How A Relationship Brought Me Halfway Around The World And Back Again - a tale of culture shock using the February earthquake as a punchline
- To New York, From Christchurch, With Love. - Karen Healey responds angrily
- If I didn't have my writing, Christchurch would have broken me - AJ Fitzwater picks up the thread, with particular reference to the arts and culture in Christchurch
"They started bringing that joy back mere weeks, maybe days after the quakes."
My sister and I made sandcastles out of the liquefaction the morning after February. We'd barely slept after a night of three quakes a minute (the bloody Port Hills kept reflecting them back on us) and the world had brought us sand, so. It made a few neighbours smile: well worth the time.
One thing I was thinking the other day — walking past the chalkboard on Colombo and (Tuam?) and an empty block which is mostly carpark except for the footprint of one shop taped off, with "No parking" sprayed in pink on the aggregate, and signposted "GapFiller coming soon" — is that Christchurch is making an artform of the temporary. Sandcastles, and yarnbombs, and Easter bunnies made from milk bottles atop road cones. We might have four seasons in a day and we sure don't have a clue what the roadworks are going to do tomorrow morning, but we also never know where a GapFiller might pop up next.
There's a tremendous beauty in that. And a pain underneath it that for me makes the beauty all the sharper. And this beauty is everywhere in Christchurch these days, like and in the wildflowers blooming in the piles of rubble.