Beneath The Flood Line

The thing you notice first is the smell, even through your mask. Some homes soaked in water for weeks, sitting in debris and, in many cases, sewage.

While you slowly make your way inside the home, you’re struck by how damp it feels inside—especially given that it’s 90 degrees outside. Windows and sliding doors clearly mark where the water rested, the same way you do for growing children.

A painful reminder how quickly they lost it all.

What used to be a beautiful Houston block filled with large, historic brick homes with perfectly manicured lawns is now filled with ruined family heirlooms, muddled photo albums, warped book collections, and unusable electrical appliances.

People make signs and hang flags in front of doorways, hoping the loyalty of patriotism will keep looters from finding the silverware and other valuables hidden in the backyard.

More projects