The town of Jay, Maine, is waking this morning to a suffocating dread. At a century-old paper mill, a powerful chemical blast ripped through the plant yesterday afternoon, killing at least one worker and leaving nine others unaccounted for. The explosion, which sent a plume of black smoke into the crisp autumn sky, is a stark reminder of the human cost embedded in the most ordinary products.
The mill, operated by Pixelle Specialty Solutions, produces the paper that ends up in books, magazines, and packaging. But now it is a scene of chaos: families gathered at a local church, waiting for news that may never come. This is not just a statistic; it is a community in waiting, holding its breath for the rescue teams who are sifting through twisted metal.
The question that hangs in the air is not just about safety, but about the price we pay for convenience. In an age of digital screens, we often forget that paper still has a physical presence, and so do the hands that make it.
