I’m been reading the stories of those affected by the rioters and their resolve to overcome.
‘The looters took everything and I could do nothing but cry all day. Then I came home and my two daughters hugged me and I knew my life was going to go on. It must go on and I have to start again.’
This keeps springing to mind:
Sweet are the uses of adversity,
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;
And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.