I want to start with this prayer. It was lying among the ashes of the burnt Yurt. Just that burnt piece of paper from a magazine amidst the chaos of destruction. My eyes were instantly drawn to the image of Maria. In that moment, my first steps in the chaos after the fire, the confrontation with the irrevocable reality of destruction, Maria’s image emanated a strangely comforting energy, like a mother telling her daughter: “it’s gonna be all right, Claire….It’s all gonna be all right.” When i read the prayer, or what was left of it, I could no longer deny that really, this could not be coincidence. The words,…