We watch the news like everyone else, and read online like everyone else, and hear the same story like everyone else, but we’re not everyone else because my husband is not alive and my daughter has lost her arms, and both are buried a safe distance from here. How will she feed herself? Will there be food for her to eat? By the time I hear more news, more bodies will be wrapped inside sheets and carried on doors past the rubble. We wash sheets. We need more sheets. We sleep without sheets and inside tents held up with three sticks like two hands pointing to the sky in an unanswered prayer. The sky is not our problem. I do not want to hear more news. I see now how the world works. I want to unsee how the world works, but every day, I hear more news and can’t sleep. I understand this now. Decisions are made according to interest rates and equity investments. Sometimes those things align with people. But mostly they don’t. Decisions are made to feed egos while my child can’t eat. I don’t know what to do with this. I sit here without any news.