I raised my hand out of my window. I expected drops of water to wash my hand, but today it’s not that. I felt ash on my hands, it was not just falling on my hands, it was making my hand tremble. I tried to remember what happened but there is no memory. Only my hands covered with soot. I peaked outside and found layers and layers of ash covering the ground. It felt as if the land itself was trembling due to the effect of the ash. There were no trees showing me life, no green no sun just black ash and barren life everywhere. I think there was a fire yesterday, what else can explain the change otherwise. But this fire not only burnt the scene I see now, but it burnt the world too. Not the buildings, not the roads but people. It burnt every living trace on the earth. When I saw closely, I found that not every person was dead. I am alive and there are people who are walking on the streets wearing nothing but a blanket over them. An expression common on every man’s face. An expression of losing hope. The expression we were born with was erased. They had submitted themselves without struggle. The fire was still there and it burnt something inside the person. The falling ash was the hope being burnt. They had lost their reason to believe.