"Do I contradict myself? Very well, I contradict myself. I am vast. I contain multitudes." -Walt Whitman

:malicious user:

Saturday, September 11, 2004

3 years later
in the months and years before, i would return from virginia on sunday nights, passing over the verrazano bridge from staten island to long island. midway across the bridge, the lights of manhattan's skyline would appear, the two towers rising up into view first. after 6 or 7 hours on the road, they were my milestone that i was back on my own island, and bed was only an hour or so away.

in the weeks after, i kept expecting to see them each sunday night; like waking up in a too-big bed when a lover is gone for good. instead there was a hollow void. the enormity and the loss and the absolute horror of what had happened was emphasized at first by the stench, the pall that reached across the water for weeks. then that too faded, leaving just the dark space where steel and light and lives had been.

something remains, though.

something like a scar.
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i used to be disgusted. now i try to be amused.
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