Monday, September 11, 2006


In 1998 Miguel took me and my friend Kathleen (pictured above) to the observation deck of Number 2 World Trade Center. We went outside above the 110th floor. I couldn't imagine working this high up on a regular basis. We joked about how far a shit would have to travel once flushed from the high floors to get to the sewer. I still think about all the people who were there that day five years ago. I still think of the people who jumped, and the people who worked breakfast shift at Windows on the World. And the firefighters. And the ones who got out somehow. And the people (like my doorman) who volunteered days and nights to help out for months thereafter. I haven't really done jack shit.

1 comment:

Corey said...

Public confession = private forgiveness.