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https://www.theguardian.com/world/hurricane-irma (acessado em 07 de setembro de 2017)

Barbuda, the first island to feel the force of Hurricane Irma was devastated by its high winds, with Gaston Browne, prime minister of Antigua and Barbuda, saying 90% of buildings had been destroyed and 50% of the population of around 1,000 people left homeless. Critical facilities including roads and communications systems were ravaged, with the recovery effort set to take months or years. Some residents are expected to be evacuated to the larger sister island of Antigua – where damage was less severe – as part of relief efforts and ahead of the prospective arrival of Hurricane Jose this weekend. At least eight people were killed in St Martin, according to French officials. The number of victims on the Dutch half of the island, St Maarteen, is unknown. Netherlands prime minister Mark Rutte says there has been “enormous material damage” to St Maarten. The French president, Emmanuel Macron, earlier said he expected Irma-related damage to St Martin and another French overseas collectivity, Saint Barthélemy (St Barts), would be “considerable”. France’s overseas minister, Annick Girardin, was travelling to the Caribbean with emergency teams and supplies. The most recent island to be hit was Puerto Rico, where lashing winds and rains have left most of the population without power and tens of thousands without water. Images from the island showed flash flooding, and hospitals were forced to rely on generators. Irma is the worst hurricane to hit the island since 1928, when Hurricane San Felipe killed more than 2,700 people across Puerto Rico, Guadeloupe and Florida .More than two thirds of homes in Puerto Rico are without electricity, and 17% are without water, officials have said.. Florida’s governor, Rick Scott, warned that the arrival of Irma’s lifethreatening wind field and storm surge was imminent, and urged residents in coastal areas to leave immediately. About 250,000 people were ordered to evacuate, making it of the largest evacuations in US history as the National Hurricane Center (NHC) placed south Florida, including the southernmost counties of Monroe, Miami-Dade and Broward, under a hurricane watch. Preparations were escalating at a furious pace as the storm’s forecast path narrowed in on the south-eastern portion of the state, home to 7 million residents. Philip Levine, the mayor of Miami Beach, ordered a mandatory evacuation of the barrier island beginning at daybreak on Thursday. “This is a nuclear hurricane,” he said. “I’ll do anything in my power to convince them to leave. Get off Miami Beach.”Scott warned that that effects of the storm could begin to be felt later on Friday, with the NHC predicting Irma’s full wrath would strike the south-east coast near Miami sometime late Saturday or early Sunday morning then move north.“Look at the size of the storm,” Scott said. “It’s huge, it’s wider than our entire state right now. If you are under an evacuation order do not wait. Leave and get out. We can rebuild your home but you can’t get your life back.”

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    Quando eu ainda não sabia nadar, meu pai me levava para ali, segurava-me um braço e atirava-me num lugar fundo. Puxava-me para cima e deixava-me respirar um instante. Em seguida repetia a tortura. Com o correr do tempo aprendi natação com os bichos e livrei-me disso.Mais tarde, na escola de mestre Antônio Justino, li a história de um pintor e de um cachorro que morria afogado. Pois para mim era no poço da Pedra que se dava o desastre. Sempre imaginei o pintor com a cara de Camilo Pereira da Silva, e o cachorro parecia-se comigo.

    Se eu pudesse fazer o mesmo com Marina, afogá-la devagar, trazendo-a para a superfície quando ela estivesse perdendo o fôlego, prolongar o suplício um dia inteiro...

   Debaixo da chuva, a mangueira do quintal está toda branca. O papagaio na cozinha bate as asas, sacudindo os salpicos que vêm da biqueira. Afago o pelo macio do meu gato mourisco, que dorme enroscado numa cadeira. As ideias ruins desaparecem. Marina desaparece.

   Ponho-me a vagabundear em pensamento pela vila distante, entro na igreja, escuto os sermões e os desaforos que padre Inácio pregava aos matutos: – “Arreda, povo, raça de cachorro com porco.” Sento-me no paredão do açude, ouço a cantilena dos sapos. Vejo a figura sinistra de seu Evaristo enforcado e os homens que iam para a cadeia amarrados de cordas. Lembro-me de um fato, de outro fato anterior ou posterior ao primeiro, mas os dois vêm juntos. E os tipos que evoco não têm relevo. Tudo empastado, confuso. Em seguida os dois acontecimentos se distanciam e entre eles nascem outros acontecimentos que vão crescendo até me darem sofrível noção de realidade. As feições das pessoas ganham nitidez. De toda aquela vida havia no meu espírito vagos indícios. Saíram do entorpecimento recordações que a imaginação completou.

   A escola era triste. Mas, durante as lições, em pé, de braços cruzados, escutando as emboanças de mestre Antônio Justino, eu via, no outro lado da rua, uma casa que tinha sempre a porta escancarada mostrando a sala, o corredor e o quintal cheio de roseiras. Moravam ali três mulheres velhas que pareciam formigas.