It seemed impossible that this beautiful city would become a pile of rubble. That the museums, the parks, the old palace, and the monuments to people and events long gone would be reduced to a memory.
He trudges through the empty streets trying to place where he might be. But without the familiar landmarks, he can't work out where things used to be.
The river flows over there, to the right, but there are no bridges left, so although he has a rough idea of what used to be here, he can't quite place it.
There are no people, no animals, no birds. The only sound is his feet crunching on the broken remains of buildings (and perhaps also, he suddenly thinks, of people, too).
A sudden roar comes from above. A fighter jet flies low over him. He flinches instinctively, even though he knows he has permission to be there, perhaps the pilot doesn't know.
...
Beautiful tale