Because out of the urban devastation in Port au Prince came a torrent of SMS texts people crying for help, beseeching us for assistance, sharing data, offering support,

I felt worse and worse at last I got up, dressed, and softly going down in my stockinged feet, sought out my stepmother, and suddenly threw myself at her feet, beseeching her as a particular favour to give me a good slippering for my misbehaviour anything indeed but condemning me to lie abed such an unendurable length of time.