I have a strange fascination with the incident. The photos, the stories, the people, the buildings. Pripyat. 50,000 people lived there before the accident. The tragedy. Ukraine, Russia, the communist regime, the things they accomplished. I frequently find my self falling into some odd sort of love with it all. Photos of Pripyat and the Chernobyl reactor will probably become routine occupants of the page here.
The picture above is actually a hybrid of two pictures of Pripyat. I found it here: http://villageofjoy.com/chernobyl-today-a-creepy-story-told-in-pictures/
This is the source’s caption:
"After the explosion at Reactor 4 the people of Pripyat flocked on the railway bridge just outside the city to get a good view of the reactor and see what had happened. Initially, everyone was told that radiation level was minimal and that they were safe. Little did they know that much of the radiation had been blown onto this bridge in a huge spike.” They saw a beautiful rainbow coloured flames of the burning graphite nuclear core, whose flames were higher than the smoke stack itself. All of them are dead now – they were exposed to levels of over 500 roentgens, which is a fatal dose. P.S.: note that the photo above is made from 2 different photos (top photo of the reactor and bottom photo of the bridge in Pripyat joined together)”
The details aren’t pretty, and I’m not trying to be grim, but the tale they tell is worth hearing. I think I’m transfixed by Chernobyl because it’s a story of rebirth - of resurrection. A tragedy occurred, but life is returning to a once dead city that was once living before that. It’s a phoenix metaphor. And that’s something I’d like to be.