People in Haiti are always telling me their earthquake stories.
I’m 31 years old, an American, a journalist. Even if I did have an answer, which I don’t, it would obviously be circumspect, philosophical, wrong.
Still, people beseech me with their stories, and I have to think it’s because they know I’m a journalist.
I’m a trained listener. I know when to ask questions and when to nod. I’ve taught my face to behave like a doctor’s or a judge’s. I don’t grin or interject. I know the funny bits are actually the saddest. Every story is important — a thousand little blocks built like a wall against the pain.
I told the truth. Imagine all the truth I didn’t tell.