I’ve seen a lot of people recounting and reflecting on their story of where they were during 9/11 on that fateful day so I’ve decided to share my story in this space as well.⁣
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Some of you may not know me well, but I was born in New York, on Long Island, to be precise, and I don’t remember much about the specifics.⁣
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I was six. I was in elementary school. I remember being confused, sensing my teacher’s apprehension and the fierce whispers and plastered concerned smiles of my teachers.⁣
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On that day, all the parents rushed to pick us up out of school. The mood was edged in fear, but I didn’t remember why. I can still see those burning towers in my eyes. For hours on end, the towers were projected on my television screen.⁣
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But I couldn’t understand why. Weeks later, I drew billowing gray clouds on parchment paper with two stark towers to symbolize this moment I had seen — a spectacle of a scene, surely.⁣
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All my teachers commented on how beautiful my drawing was, but I think in the end, I drew it as a means to understand because I still don’t understand.⁣
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And these memories — these recollections are a paltry attempt to put meaning to the spectacle, the burning towers crashing down — a love story.⁣
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How could we not look away?⁣
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How could I not look away?⁣
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Years later, I remember the news reel re-runs and the speeches set in constant, regurgitated motion, but I’ll never forget the way it made me feel. ⁣
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I think I’ll keep looking on. Because I’ll never be able to look away.⁣
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And I don’t think any of us will.⁣
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Photo Credit — Banksy