Found Poem (a text inspired by an article from the New York Times) by Silvio Caroli

On Tuesday 12, January, Wismond Exantus was at work in the ground-floor shop of the four storey Napoli Inn in Port-au-Prince. At 4:53pm, when the magnitude 7.0 earthquake hit, the 24-year-old cashier had the presence of mind to squirrel himself under a desk as the building tumbled down around him.
As he lay in the wreckage of the hotel, a drama unfolded of chaos, screaming and, eventually, helicopters and help. Wedged into a tiny, black cavity, Exantus knew nothing of what was happening outside. He held his mobile phone throughout, but it was not charged, a torment which can only be imagined. With his other hand he groped around for supplies that had been scattered around the shop: crisps, sweets, soft drinks, and beer.
When he wanted to sleep, he took a deep draught of whiskey. The cashier dreamed, among other things, that he was in the middle of the ocean and riding a horse.
By Friday, after Exantus had spent 10 days in his dark tomb, the government declared the end of search-and-rescue operations. By Saturday, scavengers were picking over the wrecked hotel when they heard a faint tapping sound, barely audible, but insistent. The Greek rescuers lacked the heavy equipment necessary to move the debris, so a group of French colleagues, who were at the airport preparing to fly out, were scrambled to the scene with their machines.

Michalska, 36, on her first mission with the team, wore layer of grime and a big smile. She embraced colleagues, some teary-eyed. Staff said Exantus was tired, dehydrated, and had abrasions on his arm, but was otherwise fine. Before slipping into a deep sleep, Exantus said he had been saved by divine deliverance. “Every night I thought about the revelation that I would survive. It was God who was tucking me away in his arms… it gave me strength.”