There is a particular kind of loss that never makes the news It does not come with sirens. It does not come with headlines. It does not even come all at once. It comes quietly. A letter from the bank. A rate adjustment. A payment that no longer fits. And somewhere between dignity and denial, a home begins to slip.
We are living in a world where destruction is loud. Cities reduced to dust, families displaced, maps redrawn by force. War has a way of announcing itself, of demanding attention. It tears, burns, shouts. But there is another kind of pressure, the kind that does not shout. It tightens. And here in Jamaica, it is tightening around something deeply personal, the home. Because while the world watches conflict unfold in dramatic fashion, something far more subtle is happening beneath our feet.…
