A gigantic washing machine.
That is what got through my mind when I got down from the couch to the floor, just to ensure I would have maximum stability, while looking apprehensively at the shaking ceiling and the clinking photography frame on the wall. “I am sitting on a freaking gigantic washing machine.” No, there was not any table near me and anyway, I was too incredulous to move much more.
It turned out I was lucky. Again. I was CouchSurfing at the right place, in the Riccarton suburb.
In the city center, two kilometers east from me, people were dieing.
