Night had fallen over Tacloban, bringing with it the eery silence of a hollowed-out city. With an 8 p.m. curfew, and mangled power lines still down, the city of 250,000 was almost entirely without light. Other than a few fires burning garbage, and the stars above me, I was enveloped by a quiet, unsettling darkness.
Most residents had fled; thousands had died in the most powerful storm to ever pass through the Philippines. I had come here to see the destruction.